


The Bar Maid’s Tale

by thescepteredisle



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-25
Updated: 2013-02-02
Packaged: 2017-11-26 21:49:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/654769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thescepteredisle/pseuds/thescepteredisle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The company stops in the village of Heorot for the night. At the Stagwood Inn, Thorin encounters a young woman who has experienced more than she lets on...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Thirteen Dwarfs and a Hobbit

Wednesdays were usually slow nights at the Stagwood Inn. But on this particular Wednesday, a rather unusual group of men trudged through its doors, tracking mud over the grubby wood floors of the inn. They slumped into seats, many of them wearily resting their heads on their hands. A few squeezed their eyes shut before opening them again in an attempt to stay awake. One had already lost this battle, and he snored as his large cheek squished out on the table.

The leader of the group walked up to the bar maid, who at that moment was on her tiptoes searching for a particular bottle of mead on the highest shelf of the cabinet behind the bar. He cleared his throat and she spun around suddenly. Her elbow knocked over a half-empty pint glass on the end of the bar. She swore loudly and turned around again to look for a broom. 

“How can I help you?” she asked, her back still turned to the stranger. 

“I am…”

But the man’s introduction was cut off by the bar maid, who made an “Aha!” noise of excitement as she found the broom and dustpan underneath the counter. She sat on the ground with her bare feet tucked under her and began cleaning up. She crawled carefully to the end of the bar and was sweeping up the last shards of glass when she noticed a pair of big black boots. In her haste she had completely forgotten about the customer.

“My sincerest apologies sir!” she said cheerfully to the grumpy face staring down at her. The bar maid couldn’t help but notice how clear and blue the man’s eyes were. She popped up and continued admiring his face while propping her elbow on the bar in the most nonchalant way she could muster. 

The stranger began again, “As I was saying, I am Thorin, son of Thrain. These are my men. We seek a good meal and lodging for the night.”

“Well Thorin, son of Thrain, I’m Salwyn, daughter of my mum.” She smiled broadly at him but he stared stonily back at her.

She cleared her throat awkwardly and pulled an enormous leather-bound book from a low shelf underneath the counter. “We have four empty rooms for the night. Would that fit your group?”

“There are fourteen in our company. Thirteen dwarfs and one hobbit.”

“Aren’t you too tall to be a hobbit?” Salwyn joked. 

“Yes,” replied Thorin coldly. 

Behind Salwyn, a greasy-looking man had just descended the staircase and slunk up to the bar. His baggy clothes concealed a skeletal frame. His eyes bulged out of a scar-riddled face. One clouded eye appeared lifeless while the functional eye was fixed upon Salwyn. The corners of the man’s mouth twitched slightly before he adopted an obsequious smile. He stood behind the bar maid and wrapped his large hands around her shoulders. 

“Thornin, is it? I am Cudbert, the humble owner of this inn. I overheard my precious daughter telling you that we have room here for you tonight.”

“My name is Thorin, and yes I was told you have vacant rooms,” replied Thorin gruffly. His brow furrowed as his eyes flicked to the bar maid. Her eyes were wide. She jerked her head toward Cudbert while mouthing words at Thorin, though he could not understand what she was trying to communicate. Suddenly wary, Thorin looked back at the inn owner and let his hand casually rest on his hip, very near to his sword. 

The fake smile faded from Cudbert’s face. He lowered his voice, hissing, “What dear Salwyn has neglected to mention is that we have a strict no-dwarf policy here at the Stagwood. You see, the villagers of Heorot don’t take kindly to filthy bands of roaming vagabonds, especially ones who are not of the race of men.” Below the counter, Cudbert fingered the handle of the dagger attached to his belt. What Thorin did not know at the time was that the tip of Cudbert’s dagger had been poisoned with the deadly juices of the vargas plant. 

At this point, Salwyn turned around slowly, pressing her body against that of the inn owner. “Please Cudbert, let them stay for one pint of ale. Their journey has clearly been exhausting. Indulge them in a brief sojourn before they depart again.”

Cudbert tightened the grip on her shoulders and glared at her. Through gritted teeth he said, “That’s no way to talk to me, girl. You call me ‘Father’ because that’s what I am to you.” Behind Salwyn, Thorin grimaced at this exchange. The bar maid may have been annoying, but Cudbert oozed dishonesty. 

She quickly corrected herself. “Yes – Father – I’m so sorry. Please just allow them to stay for an hour. I will serve them and clean up after them. Everything. Just let them stay.” Salwyn pressed even closer against him and rested her hand on his chest. She smiled sweetly, though Thorin saw that the sentiment did not extend to her eyes. Cudbert reconsidered.

“Alright then. One hour and not a second more. Keep the commotion down, and when you’ve finished, you get your arse upstairs and into bed.” He turned and started up the wooden staircase, pausing halfway. He shouted, “I forgot. There’s a special tonight – all dwarf drinks cost double!” Cudbert chuckled to himself and disappeared up the stairs. 

Salwyn turned around to find that Thorin was staring deeply at her, one brow raised like a question mark on his face. He detected a hollow sadness behind the woman’s eyes, which exuded none of the mirth that they had just moments ago. Salwyn felt a flush spread over her cheeks. She was ashamed that she had to degrade herself just to secure drinks for this stranger and his men. But the dwarf certainly did not seem disgusted with her. 

Suddenly, their visual communion was broken by a loud “Oy!” from a particularly large dwarf. “So are we having drinks or what?” Thorin unhurriedly turned to look back, his gaze with Salwyn elongating and stretching like fresh toffee. 

“We will stay for an hour and then leave this place,” Thorin replied to the query. He anticipated the storm of complaints, so he repeated himself more sternly, “One. Hour.” The dwarfs quieted down but kept grumbling to themselves nonetheless. 

After the extra moment to regain her composure, Salwyn returned her face to its usual cheerfulness. She grinned at the group of dwarfs and began pulling out pint glasses from behind the counter, filling them with ale, and scraping off the foam in one quick motion. Thorin’s lips parted slightly as he watched her move. 

“The hobbit should probably only have a half-pint,” he said croakily. His throat had become dry as he contemplated the bar maid’s strange appeal. Constantly surrounded by his brethren, Thorin did not often meet intriguing women in vacant inn bars.

“Oh really? I had no idea that hobbits should drink less than dwarfs!” replied Salwyn sarcastically. “Take a seat with your men, Thorin, son of Thrain. Enjoy your ale.” She winked at him as she carried six pints in one hand and seven in the other, slopping some of the ale across the inn’s floor. She placed one in front of each dwarf, all of whom began imbibing greedily. Salwyn smiled at Thorin as she returned to the bar to retrieve the hobbit’s half-pint. Though he did not return the smile, he ignored his drink and followed her with his eyes.

As Salwyn approached the bar, a flurry of thoughts flew across her brain. Instead of grabbing the last drink, she walked around the bar, stepped carefully over the dustpan full of glass, and ducked behind the counter to check something. Popping back up like a jack-in-the-box, Salwyn called out to Thorin, “I seem to have run out of ale. There are more barrels downstairs in the cellar but I have such trouble carrying them up here. If you could help me with this task then I won’t charge you for your drink. Pretty please?” She batted her eyelashes at him in an exaggerated manner and revealed a toothy grin. 

Thorin smiled internally, but kept his exterior calm. “I should be glad to help you,” he said, standing up. “Lead the way.”

“Wait, what about my ale?” squeaked the hobbit.

“You’re a big lad – get it yourself!” called Salwyn as she walked away. 

“But I can’t,” he whined.

Thorin patted the hobbit on the back and followed the bar maid. In the doorway to the storage room the dwarf stopped and looked over his shoulder. “For goodness sake, would someone help Bilbo?” One of the younger dwarfs leapt from his seat, grabbed the half-pint from the bar, and swiftly set it down in front of the hobbit in a matter of seconds.

“Thank you Kili,” said Thorin as he disappeared into the back room of the Stagwood.


	2. The Woodsman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things become heated in the inn cellar.

In the storage room in the back of the bar, Thorin watched Salwyn as she kicked aside empty boxes to reveal a trapdoor. She carefully turned the handle and pulled up the door, pausing at the entrance.

“Hand me that lantern will you dearie?”

Thorin puzzled over the informality of being called “dearie” as he handed Salwyn a large, rusted lantern from a table nearby. He followed her as she began down the steps into the cellar. They walked along a short stone passageway before Salwyn abruptly stopped and turned around to look at Thorin. Her bright face was no longer merry, and her brown eyes were no longer full of mirth. But neither did she exude the same sadness as during her humiliating exchange with Cudbert.

“What is it?” asked Thorin, startled by this sudden shift in personality.

“Have you ever killed a man before?” Salwyn’s voice was now slightly deeper and much more serious. Her eyes sparkled with rage and fury as she stared at the dwarf.

“Well, I,” Thorin spluttered, unsure as to why the bar maid was now putting him through an inquisition.

“Have you ever killed anyone before?” Salwyn repeated, her eyes boring a hole through Thorin.

He felt obliged to answer. “Yes,” he began slowly. “But only those who have attacked me first. I have killed goblins…orcs…men…any foul creature that has done me some harm. Why do you ask this?” Thorin’s concern was mounting. He wondered if this woman was some sort of spy and immediately regretted his answer.

“If I were to ask for your help killing someone, what would be your response?” Salwyn searched Thorin’s face for his reaction to this request.

After a long pause, Thorin replied, “He would have to deserve it.”

Salwyn hung the lantern on a metal hook sticking out from the stone wall. She pulled up her dirty white skirt along the side of her left leg. At the point where her thigh met her hip was a large, splotchy, greenish-purple bruise. Surprised, Thorin began to say something, but Salwyn was not finished. She grasped her long dark hair and tilted her head back. The light revealed faint red finger marks around her throat. Thorin swore loudly.

“Wait. There’s one more to show you,” Salwyn said darkly. She loosened the crisscrossed strings on her bodice and pulled her shirt down ever so slightly. On the top of her small breast was a thin white mark, like two arrows pointing at each other. Thorin was agape.

“Is that a brand? The same kind put on livestock?” he asked, his voice rising. Salwyn nodded.

“Who did this to you?” Thorin demanded.

“Who do you think?” Salwyn replied curtly, a flush spreading over her cheeks again.

Thorin immediately growled, “Your father Cudbert.”

Salwyn shouted, “Father!?” She glared at Thorin before lowering her voice again. “That man is not my father!”

“Then why does he demand to be known as such?” asked Thorin, watching the lantern light flicker across Salwyn’s face, which had changed from being angry to nervous.

She knew that once she told her tale, she could never again put the words back in her mouth. Salwyn took another moment to consider Thorin’s trustworthiness. He was clearly a fierce man, his face carved by years of misery. But despite the dwarf’s icy bearing, the bar maid did not believe that Thorin’s heart had crossed into that goblin realm of unfeeling cruelty. Indeed, he cared about the well being of his men, especially that wet-behind-the-ears hobbit. And most importantly, Thorin showed outrage at the sight of her battered body. Satisfied with this last mental point, Salwyn took a deep breath and began.

“When I was growing up, my father Osric hunted deer in the Finnsburh Woods – east of Heorot, just past the Last Bridge. He often took me with him, each time asking me if this was the day when we’d finally catch a glimpse of the mythical white hart. My mother Eldryth packed us wicker baskets of meats and cheeses so my da' and I could eat lunch next to the small stream that passed through the woods. When we were full and happy, we laid back on the grass. I rested my head on my father’s stomach and I watched the filtered forest light hit specks of dust in the air. To pass the time, da' told me stories of the old times. You see, Heorot was not always the seedy sanctum of rough folk that it now is. Before I was born this village was thriving and its people were content. Merchants sent hand-carved wooden goods west to Bree and east to Rivendell.”

Thorin scoffed at hearing the name of the elves’ residence.

“I’m sorry, is my story not pleasing to you?” Salwyn's eyes silently scolded Thorin. He straightened up and told her to carry on.

Salwyn continued, “On the western edge of the wood lies a small cabin. A simple woodsman lived there, though in all our trips through the forest he never acknowledged us, only peered out at us through a dirty windowpane. My father told me the woodsman was a hermit. However, I was little and didn’t know what that word meant. My child’s mind assumed the woodsman was some sort of dabbler in magic. Indeed, the area surrounding his house seemed dark, or sort of murky, like I couldn’t see the forest on the other side. The scariest part was the crows who gathered near the cabin for their meetings. Da' told me I was imagining things, but I swear they talked about us as we passed.”

“You weren’t imagining anything,” interjected Thorin. “Crows are often spies for evil-doers.”

“Well obviously I know that now,” replied Salwyn. “Da' was just trying to allay my fears. Anyway, one autumn night after my twelfth birthday, a harsh wind blew in from the east, speaking words I couldn’t understand. An angry gust yanked my window open and I nearly fell out trying to close it again. A few hours later, my father set out for Finnsburh, just after sunrise. I woke up to the sound of the front door clicking shut. I leapt out of bed and sped after my father. Outside the front gate I begged him to let me go too, but he refused. He was acting strange. His eyes were sort of glazed over, like he wasn’t really there. Da' kept mumbling something about finding the white hart. As he set off again, I called after him that the white hart wasn’t real, just a bedtime story told to Heorot children. He didn’t hear me.”

Salwyn paused to catch her breath. She quickly scanned Thorin’s face. His eyes were narrowed and he seemed pensive.

“Can you sense where this tale is going?” asked the bar maid.

“Perhaps,” Thorin replied. “I also sense that we are currently in more danger than you originally let on.”

To his disbelief, she smiled. “Aye, that we are. But have a bit more patience Master Dwarf. We’ll get there.” Thorin inclined his head slightly and Salwyn went on.

“After watching da' depart, I ran back inside and began pestering mum, who was sleepily preparing breakfast. I told her how odd da' seemed, but she waved her hand and said, ‘Oh honey, you know how your father gets when some harebrained idea descends upon him. He’ll come back this evening and regale us with tales of almost catching that damned deer.’

“I started protesting but she shushed me and said that when I was done eating we’d continue yesterday’s accounts and inventory practice. ‘Salwyn,’ she began, ‘One day you will be running the Stagwood. You can’t do that properly if you don’t have an ounce of business sense. Lord knows your father has filled your head with enough stories. You’re twelve years old now! Practically an adult.’ As she said this, I shoved my plate off the table. It smashed on the floor, flinging bacon and glass shards everywhere. In the half-second it took mum to realize what happened, I stood up so suddenly I knocked over my chair. I ran out the front door and down the East-West Road.

“Mum chased after me, bellowing like an angry cow. But when the Last Bridge was in sight, we both skidded to a stop. It was the woodsman. He was walking along the road, carrying something slumped over his shoulders. At first I thought it was a deer, but as he got closer I realized what it was. I fell so hard to the ground that small rocks cut the skin on my knees and got stuck there. My ears stopped working properly, as if I were underwater. All I heard was muffled shouts. My mum had run up to the woodsman screaming ‘Please no! My dear Osric! Oh god please!’

“I don’t remember what happened after that. Honestly. The next thing I knew, I was back in the Stagwood, tucked into my bed. I got up and opened my window. My eyes told me that it was nighttime. But my mind didn’t agree. The darkness outside seemed deceptive and heavy. The black was a wool cloak draped over my shoulders.

“I shuffled down the hall to my parents’ room. My mother was lying in bed. Her head lolled back and forth while nonsensical words left her mouth. The woodsman sat in a chair next to her, stirring a green liquid mixture in a roughly-hewn bowl. The mixture filled the room with the damp smell of amphibians and other slimy pond-dwellers. As he poured the mixture into my mother’s mouth, she coughed violently and took raspy breaths.

“Horrified at what the woodsman was feeding my mother, I thought of protecting her with the only weapon I had – a small pocket knife on my bedside table. I started to tiptoe back to my room, but the wooden floor let out a loud creak. I turned back around and screamed loudly. The woodsman had been standing right behind me. One clouded, lifeless eye stared blankly, but the working eye fixed itself upon me. Suddenly the man grabbed my throat and dragged me in front of my mother. As I looked down, his fingers burning into my skin, I saw that white foam was oozing out of her mouth.

“He said, ‘This is what happens to nosy bitches who doubt my words. If I say that your father broke his neck from a nasty fall in the Finnsburh Woods, then that’s what happened. And if I say that your mother has left you in the loving care of old Cudbert, then that’s what’s going to happen.’ I started to object, but he removed a vargas-tip dagger from the holster on his belt and threatened me with it.”

“Vargas!” exclaimed Thorin suddenly. His usually hard face had contorted with shock. “How did he come by such a deadly poison as vargas?” Salwyn shrugged her shoulders, unaware of the rarity of vargas in Middle Earth.

She recalled, “As he brandished the dagger at me, he warned me that if I ever told anyone what had happened, he’d kill me. I was twelve at the time. I took his threat seriously for a couple of years, but then I began to plan my getaway. I can’t even remember how many times I’ve tried to leave this place. Each time Cudbert found me, he punished me for my disobedience, usually by throwing me down the stairs a few times. But sometimes he was creative. Oh yes. One day he was so sick of my escape-artist routine that he branded me with the sign of the Stagwood, just so others could know where to ‘return me’ if ever I was ‘lost’ again. Ten years later, I’m still Cudbert’s prisoner and my prison is this inn.”

Salwyn finished her story bitterly and leaned her head back against the stone wall of the cellar passageway. Her eyes went out of focus for a moment as she remembered the brief but happy years of her childhood. When she returned to the present, she realized with a jolt that Thorin was still staring at her, completely speechless. He reached out and awkwardly put his hand on her shoulder. She looked at the hand and then back at him. Recalling Cudbert’s actions upstairs, Thorin hastilty removed his hand. To distract Salwyn, the dwarf asked how the villagers of Heorot reacted to these events a decade ago.

Disdain spread across the bar maid’s face. She answered, “You’re the only one who knows the true story. No one in this godforsaken village really cared that my parents died. No one cared to investigate the manner of their deaths. It doesn’t matter who serves the drinks as long as the ale keeps flowing.”

Salwyn gestured at the barrels behind her and made a noise of disgust. Quite suddenly, she slammed her fist against the wall. Thorin’s eyes widened with alarm. He began to wonder what he had gotten himself into, especially as Salwyn began pacing back and forth and waving her hands wildly.

“Luckily for me, I’ve been using my time at the Stagwood well. I’ve observed Cudbert for years. He’s a man of habit. Gets cranky when his routines are interrupted. But he doesn’t realize that I’m an invisible part of those routines. I’ve learned how to manipulate him to get what I want.”

Thorin interrupted her. “Is that why you, um, acted that way upstairs?” This question had been plaguing him ever since the incident occurred.

“Of course!” replied Salwyn. “He still sees me as an innocent twelve year old girl. As long as I act sweet and don’t put up a fuss, I can get what I want. And if I have to press my body against him to make him temporarily forget how much trouble I’ve caused, then I’ll do it. Besides, he wasn’t the only man in that room who I manipulated.” Thorin raised an eyebrow. 

Salwyn laughed shrilly. “You don’t remember me winking and smiling at you? And batting my eyelashes? And asking a big strong man for help carrying ale barrels? I could carry these damn barrels in my sleep.”

Thorin felt duped. “Do you often lure unsuspecting men into this cellar?” he asked crossly.

The bar maid laughed again, though it sounded hollow this time. “If you saw half of the scum who frequent this place, you wouldn’t make such accusations. They’re all a bunch of vulgar drunks who think I’ll sit in their laps for a bit as long as they keep propositioning me.”

She abruptly stopped pacing and looked questioningly at Thorin. “You’ve really never had anyone do something degrading to catch your attention or earn your help?” Salwyn asked. “I got the impression that your men would do anything for you. I bet they’ve had to swallow their pride a time or two after you bark your orders. But they still follow you in hopes of receiving just a pat on the back or a few kind words.”

The dwarf disagreed, “I don’t make them do anything demeaning!”

But the bar maid pressed him further. “Think long and hard. You’ve really never taken your men’s loyalty for granted? Involved them in something so horrendous that there is no possible way it could end well for all of you?” She fixed him with a piercing gaze.

A sense of foreboding seized Thorin. He felt his skin grow cold and clammy as he remarked in the most casual tone he could muster, “That’s a very specific question Salwyn.”

“I know you’re on a mission, Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain. Let’s just say a little bird told me.” She leaned against the wall as a smug smile spread across her face.

Overcome with rage, Thorin moved so close to Salwyn that their noses were practically touching. He whispered, “I watched the dragon Smaug destroy the entire city of Dale just so he could claim the riches of my family’s kingdom of Erebor. And because I could not stop a dragon, my people now roam the known world while our enemy continues to occupy the Lonely Mountain. The twelve dwarfs above us were the only ones who responded to my call to arms. You are mistaken in thinking that they are loyal only to me – they are loyal to each other and to all those who died defending Erebor.” He moved back and leaned against the opposite wall, staring grimly at Salwyn.

When he finished the passageway was filled with tension. The bar maid’s stomach squirmed with guilt. But she quickly regained her capacity for speech. Salwyn retorted, “Nevertheless, in all your tribulations, have you ever been truly alone? Have you ever felt so isolated on your quest that everyone around you seemed to be made of ghostly vapor and the world seemed dull and colorless?”

Now it was Thorin’s turn to feel ashamed, though he could never admit this to her. “No,” he answered truthfully. “We have had support in our exile. Not just from dwarfs either. There’s the hobbit, and the wizard, and the latter wants us to seek assistance from the elves.”

Salwyn’s chest was filled with a strange jealousy. The magma bubbled and rose up inside her. Her hands were shaking as she declared, “Well the people of Heorot abandoned me. I have been on my own for the past ten years, without the loyalty of a single soul. It matters not whether you choose to help me or choose to be on your way. But mark my words – I will have my revenge on that slimy excuse for a human being. Cudbert murdered my father, poisoned my mother, and robbed me of any happiness I could have had. After I hear his death rattle I will leave this abhorrent town and never return.”

Thorin had never heard one so young speak such venomous words. He stood rooted to the spot, awed by Salwyn’s ferocity. She seemed half wild. Her dark hair flew out in all directions and her eyes glinted dangerously. Thorin reflected on the bar maid’s tale. His mind was overcome with gratitude for the loyal friends sitting in the room above him. The dwarf heard faint echoes of raucous laughter from upstairs and he unconsciously clutched his hand to his chest.

When coherent thought at last returned to him, Thorin spoke slowly and deliberately. “I have encountered enough evil in this world to remain indifferent about what Cudbert did to you and your family. Men like him exist everywhere. They will always exist. But it is only possible to fight dark forces in this world when we unite with others. And you, Salwyn,” he stepped closer to her, “you have only ever fought evil by yourself. That is by far the most egregious wrong I can imagine. Because of your decade of isolation, I promise that my men and I will help you avenge your parents’ deaths or we will die trying.”

Thorin extended his hand. Salwyn gripped it firmly and shook it. She smiled at Thorin and said determinedly, “Let’s kill the bastard.”


	3. Across the Wide River

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Salwyn's plan plus a dash of canon

“Do you have a plan?” asked Thorin, concern growing again at the thought of how they’d actually kill Cudbert. 

“I do,” smiled Salwyn. “But a lot depends on you and your men. You said there is a wizard in your party. Where is he?” 

Thorin scowled. “He has most likely gone on ahead to scout out the path. Probably trying to route us through Rivendell.” 

“Can you somehow summon him back?”

“I’m not his keeper. Gandalf does as he pleases – despite my reservations about elves,” replied Thorin, his upper lip curling in a slight snarl. 

“I’m just a bit worried. You probably figured it out earlier but I believe Cudbert is some sort of conjurer. He’s certainly not a real wizard but he does have some dark powers. I’d be willing to bet that he was behind the myth of the white hart. The deer is probably an illusion, a trick of the eye meant to lure people deeper into the woods. The morning my da’ died, he was obsessed with the hart. It was as if,” Salwyn hesitated, “someone had cast a spell on him.”

She had never voiced this theory to anyone else. She twisted her fingers and anxiously awaited the dwarf’s response. To her relief, Thorin agreed with her. He added, “And what about the unnatural blackness after you awoke in your bed? Cudbert could have bewitched Heorot and turned the villagers against you.” 

Salwyn replied gloomily, “For as long as I can remember the men of Heorot have been a repulsive bunch. They drunkenly beat up their wives, and in turn the women take their anger out on the children. None of my father’s stories ever mentioned when Heorot started to go downhill. So I don’t think this place has ever been the tranquil home of happy merchants. Da’ told me fairytales and in my innocence I believed him.”

“You were just a child. At least your father cared for you until the very end,” Thorin replied enigmatically. 

Avoiding Salwyn’s eye, the dwarf turned his head to look back at the cellar stairs. He was consumed with swirling thoughts about the fate of his own father Thrain. The last Dwarven Ring of Power had intensified his lust for gold so greatly that he abandoned Thorin. After Thrain was captured by the Necromancer and imprisoned in Dol Guldur, he slowly went mad. Though Gandalf found him there, he could not save the dying king. Thrain handed the map to the wizard and told him to pass it on to his son. When Gandalf presented the map to Thorin, he reluctantly informed him that at the end Thrain had not remembered his own son’s name. The dwarf prince was crestfallen. Like Salwyn, however, his despondency was quickly replaced by a gnawing desire for revenge. Gandalf tried to reason with Thorin. He advised him to first reclaim Erebor from Smaug. The dragon, after all, was the cause of their desolation. After the prince was finally crowned King Under the Mountain, he could perhaps take on the Necromancer and restore Thrain’s honor. But while Thorin had many virtues, patience – especially for revenge – was not one of them. 

“At least I’m avenging somebody’s father,” he thought bitterly to himself. 

In the meantime, Salwyn’s curiosity had been piqued by the dwarf’s indirect mention of his father. Nonetheless, the bar maid astutely realized that she should not pry into Thorin’s past any further. His simmering anger already lay dangerously close to the surface. She changed the subject. “Well perhaps I could get a message to this Gandalf fellow.”

She whistled four notes. The tune interrupted Thorin’s brooding. He watched as a tiny sparrow flew through a window in the storage room and down into the cellar passageway. It perched on Salwyn’s outstretched finger and chirped happily at her. She whispered, “Find the wizard Gandalf. He’s on the road to Rivendell. Tell him to return to Heorot with all haste!”

Salwyn smiled at the sparrow. As it flew out again, she turned watched it go. She stared at the cellar steps for a few moments, ignoring Thorin. Finally the bar maid turned to answer the silent question asked by his raised eyebrow. “Sometimes animals make better friends than people do. In fact, little Fremian was the one who brought me news of your imminent arrival. He told me all about the great Thorin Oakenshield.”

“Is that so? What exactly did he tell you?” the dwarf asked, these last few words tumbling from his mouth more quickly than he would have liked. 

Salwyn understood why Thorin’s countenance had become anxious. She began slowly, “Fremian informed me about your quest to slay the dragon Smaug. Also,” she hesitated, “he heard the tale of how an orc killed your grandfather Thror at Moria.”

Thorin gritted his teeth. “You speak of Azog the Defiler. I watched my cousin Dain separate Azog’s head from his body at the Battle of Azanulbizar,” the dwarf said with grim satisfaction. 

Salwyn smiled nostalgically as her mind played images of an event she had not actually witnessed. She exclaimed, “Oh how I would have loved to have seen that murderer’s head on a pike!” Thorin’s eyebrows briefly flashed up and down. A rare sensation gripped his chest, paining him slightly. Against his volition, the seed of respect for Salwyn had begun to sprout.

He cleared his throat and replied, “I have never met a woman who wished to see such an unpleasant sight.”

“In my experience, murdered family members are the unpleasant sight,” Salwyn snapped, her temper rising. She breathed heavily out of her nose. “Anyway, Fremian said you are a warrior with many brave deeds to your name. It was his idea that you could help me. But I had to test you first. I knew after Cudbert saw you that he would put his hands on me protectively. When you saw this, you positioned your hand near your sword.”

“I don’t remember doing that,” said Thorin, trying to recall the details of something that transpired only half an hour ago.

“It must’ve been your instinct then,” said Salwyn, shrugging her shoulders slightly. “I also knew Cudbert would react badly when I failed to call him ‘Father.’ Even after he went upstairs, your face was still contorted in horror.”

“That was a revolting sight,” Thorin declared. 

“Exactly,” replied Salwyn. “That’s how I knew you were trustworthy. Countless others have witnessed Cudbert’s nauseating behavior, but you were the only one who’s ever seemed visibly concerned. And when I showed you my wounds and scars…” she trailed off. The bar maid had suppressed her sorrow for so many years that by now the urge to cry was an alien feeling. The thought of blubbering and sniffling in front of Thorin repulsed Salwyn. She immediately willed her tears to disappear. “You were incensed by what Cudbert has done to me over the years.” 

The dwarf did not immediately answer her. His mind had wandered back to the sparrow. After contemplating the bird and the story he told, Thorin finally connected seemingly incongruent facts. He closed his eyes as the epiphany washed over him. 

Thorin opened his eyes suddenly and said hurriedly, “I think it’s safe to assume Gandalf will be joining us later. With that in mind, tell me the rest of your plan.”

Salwyn replied, “Oh right. That’s what we had been discussing. Well, after we return upstairs, you will order your men to leave the inn immediately. I can provide you with a few victuals before you go. Head east down the road and cross the Last Bridge. Once you do, you will see Cudbert’s dilapidated cabin. Wait there until just before dawn.”

Thorin interrupted, “We’re supposed to pass the time in a house where dark magic was once practiced?” 

“It’s been abandoned for ten years,” said Salwyn reassuringly. “Fremian has scoped it out. Nobody will bother you there.”

Thorin grumbled, “I’m glad we’re putting so much trust in a creature that I could squash between my fingers.” 

Salwyn chose to ignore this comment and continued, “When the sun starts to rise, make your way back to Heorot. On the eastern edge of town, there is a small alleyway next to the butcher’s shop. Take this shortcut and then follow the street to the back side of the Stagwood. Cudbert’s room is on the second floor. Have the hobbit climb the empty crates next to the wall and peer into the room. Cudbert should already be down in the kitchen having breakfast.”

“Couldn’t you just poison his food?” asked Thorin, annoyed at how complex this plan was becoming.

“I’ve never thought of that before!” replied Salwyn sarcastically. “That’s a great idea. I’ll poison the food of a man who concocted a mixture that killed my mother in minutes. He’ll never see it coming. Brilliant.”

Chagrined, Thorin waved his hand for the bar maid to continue. “Master Bilbo can open the window and slip inside. In the bottom drawer of Cudbert’s dresser, underneath his gray pants sits a small wooden box. I came across it one time when I was putting away his clothes. Cudbert became extremely agitated and told me to forget about the box. I’m not sure what’s inside, but it must be quite valuable to him. Have the hobbit take the box and climb back out the window.”

“So after we’ve taken all this trouble to steal a wooden box, then can we kill Cudbert?” Thorin’s impatience was rising.

Salwyn rebuked him. “I’ve been waiting for years to have my revenge. I will not blow this opportunity because a hotheaded dwarf couldn’t wait a moment longer to hear the plan!” She made a sound of exasperation and glared at him. He clenched his hands into fists and the veins in his forehead bulged slightly. 

Though the cellar passageway was a rather tight space, Salwyn realized that Thorin was miles away – on the opposite bank of a wide river that she could never cross. She didn’t have a boat, and if she fell in the water, the dwarf would probably just stare at her as she got swept away downstream. 

The bar maid said between gritted teeth, “After we kill Cudbert, you will never have to see me again Thorin Oakenshield.” She stepped closer to the dwarf. Salwyn put her shaking hand on Thorin’s chest and pushed him against the cold stone wall. Her eyes blazed with fire and her nostrils flared. She whispered dangerously, “But until that time, you will do as I command.” 

Salwyn moved her hand up from Thorin’s chest to the back of his neck, gripping it hard. She pulled his head down and kissed him forcefully.


	4. The Cellar Passageway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You've finally reached the smutty chapter woohoo you go Glen Coco

As their lips pulled apart, Salwyn’s eyes flickered open. Thorin was breathing heavily as he stared at her. His eyes were filled with both loathing and exhilaration. The dwarf bit the edge of his lower lip and started to say something. The bar maid preemptively put her hand over his mouth.

“Oh I don’t think so. You don’t get to speak unless I give you permission.” 

Salwyn looked into Thorin’s blue eyes as she stuck her index and middle fingers inside his mouth, pressing down on his tongue. As she was withdrawing her fingers, the dwarf snarled. He bared his teeth and gently dragged them across Salwyn’s fingertips. Without breaking eye contact, the bar maid then ran her slick middle finger over his lips. Thorin’s broad chest heaved and a flush spread up his throat and neck. 

Salwyn slipped her hands under the dwarf’s greatcoat and let it fall to the ground. She ran her finger over the patterns on Thorin’s buckle before unhooking his belt and tossing it and his sword down with a loud clank. The bar maid yanked off his undercoat and her fingers nimbly unhooked his armor. 

Thorin made a noise of protest as the armor’s fine metalwork scraped on the cellar floor. Salwyn reached up and grasped the dwarf’s throat. She glowered at him and ordered him to stop complaining. His surly silence belied his growing arousal. Satisfied, the bar maid ripped off Thorin’s white undershirt and she stared brazenly at him for a moment. Her eyes drank in his broad chest and taut stomach. She followed the line of dark hair down his body to where it disappeared beneath his pants. 

Salwyn’s hands gripped the sides of Thorin’s torso. She moved her head up and kissed him again, softly at first and then more intensely. Her tongue left her mouth and traced the outline of his slight Cupid’s bow. She stopped at the corner of the dwarf’s mouth and slid her tongue sideways over to the middle of his thin lips, gently pushing them apart. Salwyn’s tongue penetrated Thorin’s mouth. She barely flicked her tongue against his. 

Thorin’s stomach tensed and his hips unintentionally thrust into the bar maid. He placed one hand on the small of her back while the other hand grabbed her ass cheek. The dwarf pulled her close to him. Salwyn pressed her lips harder against Thorin’s. She looked him dead in the eyes and bit his lower lip, tugging it away from his face.

The dwarf had been distracted, but with a rush he remembered how much Salwyn aggravated him. Seized with lustful wrath, Thorin growled carnally before grabbing Salwyn’s shoulders and shoving her hard against the stone wall opposite him. He grabbed each of her wrists and pinned her arms above her head. Thorin leaned down to kiss Salwyn, but she turned her head away and admonished him. 

“I never told you that you could kiss me, dwarf.” Her lips twisted into a mocking smile. 

Furious, Thorin kissed her anyway, his rough beard scratching her face. Salwyn wriggled her body violently, but the dwarf continued to hold on to both her wrists in just one of his large hands. His other hand made its way to the already loosened strings at the top of the bar maid’s bodice. Thorin yanked the strings sharply and threw the bodice on the ground. 

Salwyn felt her face redden as she seethed with rage at the sight of her broken bodice. Her eyes widened as Thorin grasped her throat and curled his lips into a wicked leer. Their eyes locked for a moment before he kissed her again. His tongue dominated hers. Despite trying to control herself, the bar maid tilted her head back and moaned uncontrollably into Thorin’s mouth. 

Upon feeling these vibrations, the dwarf smiled again. His free hand dug into Salwyn’s waist and spun her around. Her cheek pressed against the cold stone of the cellar passageway. Thorin reached his fingers into her hair and clutched it at the roots. 

He moved his mouth close to her ear and whispered in a gravelly voice, “I’m going to have to punish you for your insolence.” 

The dwarf released Salwyn’s hair and pushed down on her lower back, forcing her ass out. His hand traced its way down the back of her right leg and stopped at the hem of her dress. He yanked it up and let the fabric pool on the small of her back. Thorin suddenly spanked the bar maid so forcefully that his hand left bright red marks on the lower part of her ass cheek. Salwyn bit her lower lip to prevent sounds of pleasure from escaping her mouth. She didn’t want Thorin to know how much she was enjoying being overpowered. 

She decided to taunt him. “You thought that would hurt? That’s so cute.” 

The bar maid suppressed a smile as she heard the dwarf growl with frustration behind her. Thorin undid the top of his pants and let them slide down around his knees. He roughly turned Salwyn around so she was facing him. Her eyes were drawn downward to his cock, which glistened with anticipation. The bar maid reached a hand out to touch him, but Thorin forbid her from doing so. She obeyed and pressed her hands against the wall. 

He ran his hands under her dress and up the sides of her legs. Gripping her ass cheeks, Thorin flexed his muscular arms and hoisted her up, scraping her back against the stone wall. She gripped his torso with her thighs and wrapped her hands around his neck. As the dwarf slowly entered Salwyn, her eyes rolled back in her head. She took a series of short gasping breaths, almost unable to exhale. 

The bar maid then bent her head down to kiss Thorin but stopped just short of his lips. Instead, she ran her fingers through the gray streaks of hair around his face. Salwyn applied pressure to his scalp and massaged his temples with her thumbs. Thorin let out a low moan and began thrusting faster. The bar maid moved her hand to the nape of his neck. She grasped his long dark hair at the roots and yanked the dwarf’s head away from her, staring into his eyes with a mixture of repulsion and hunger. Salwyn parted her lips and slid her tongue into his mouth. 

Thorin kissed the bar maid as he lifted her away from the wall. She held onto his neck for support as he bent down on his knees, resting his weight on the balls of his feet. Though their lips pulled apart, the dwarf remained inside Salwyn. One hand held her lower back while the other pulled her dress up and over her head. Thorin supported her neck with his large hand and laid her back on the ground. She rested her head on the fur lining of his greatcoat. Salwyn stared up at the dwarf, licking her top lip seductively. She then arched her back and undulated her hips over Thorin’s cock. He bit the edge of his lip and exhaled slowly. 

The dwarf bent his head closer to the bar maid. The tips of his long hair lightly brushed her skin. He ran his fingers over her collarbone and around her breasts. Thorin paused momentarily over the Stagwood brand, tracing it with his index finger. He caressed the sides of her breasts with the back of his hands. The dwarf splayed his fingers and let Salwyn’s hard pink nipples slide between the gaps. Thorin leaned down and gently bit her nipples while squeezing her breasts. 

Salwyn gasped. She didn’t know that pain could ever feel enjoyable. Her feet curled slightly as she gripped the dwarf’s torso with her thighs. He pressed his cock deep into her and held it there for a moment before withdrawing it slightly. 

Thorin moved to the space between her breasts and slowly brushed his rough beard and soft lips against her skin. He dragged his face down her stomach and flicked his tongue over her bellybutton. The pads of his thumbs massaged and squeezed her wide-set hips. 

“Ow!” exclaimed Salwyn suddenly. Thorin had pressed too hard on her greenish-purple bruise. The dwarf’s face hovered over her stomach, though his eyes looked up at Salwyn. He had completely forgotten about her injury.

“Never mind that,” Salwyn said breathlessly. “Don’t stop. I need you so much.”

Thorin sat back up and tantalizingly replied, “Well you can’t have me.” 

He moved his hand down and pulled his cock out of Salwyn. It was still wet from being inside her. The dwarf stared into her eyes as he grasped the base of his shaft. He began sliding his hand up to the tip, tightening his grip when got there. Thorin continued pleasuring himself while still looking at Salwyn. He narrowed his eyes and slowly licked his lips. The bar maid could not take it anymore. She made a noise of impatience and sat up. He placed a large hand on her chest and shoved her back to the ground, his blue ring glinting in the lantern light. 

The dwarf removed his hand from his cock and shoved his wet finger into Salwyn’s mouth so she could lick it clean. Her tongue swirled around it once before Thorin yanked it out. He moved back and grabbed the bar maid’s ankles before sliding his palms up her shins. After kneading her calves, his fingers walked up to the sensitive skin behind Salwyn’s knees. Here, Thorin traced his middle fingers in circles, barely grazing her skin. Suddenly ticklish, the bar maid let out a nervous giggle.

“Keep quiet,” commanded Thorin. 

Salwyn covered her mouth with her hand and stared up at the cellar ceiling, trying not to make any more sounds of pleasure. Thorin’s hands glided up the bar maid’s inner thighs. He parted her legs and grasped the underside of her thighs. The dwarf lifted Salwyn’s legs up, hooking her knees over his shoulders. His large arms embraced her thighs and his hands clutched the outside of Salwyn’s hips. 

As he moved his head closer to the bar maid’s lower lips, Thorin felt Salwyn’s body tense and start to shake. He instructed her to relax, but she felt too vulnerable. Her stomach quivered and her thighs trembled. As the dwarf looked up at her from between her legs, he was startled to see traces of fear in her eyes. 

“I can’t do this.” 

She whispered so quietly he could barely hear her. Thorin reached his left hand up and clasped her hand, interlocking his fingers with hers. Salwyn closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She squeezed his hand and nodded for him to continue. 

The dwarf softly kissed her inner thighs. He leaned close to Salwyn’s Venus mound and exhaled slowly. As the warm breath washed over her, she shivered. Goosebumps formed all over her body.

His right hand traced a circle around her bellybutton before traveling all the way down, stopping just short of her clit. Thorin separated his index and middle fingers. He moved them down and around her outer lips. His index finger made tiny circles around her glistening entrance before he slid his finger in and out of her. She bit her knuckle to keep from moaning with satisfaction.

Thorin noticed this. He promised, “You will not stop yourself from screaming my name before long.” Salwyn tried to look at him defiantly, but this was difficult since her eyelids were fluttering with pleasure.

The dwarf inserted another finger into the bar maid. As he curled his fingers in a come-hither motion he passed over Salwyn’s soft and spongy g-spot. Each time he stroked it her body jerked slightly. She let go of Thorin’s hand and grabbed at the stone floor. She bucked her hips into Thorin’s fingers, but he pressed his left hand onto her lower stomach to control her. 

“No more. Please. It’s too intense,” begged Salwyn, whose head was moving from side to side. 

“I am not yet finished with you,” Thorin declared.

A flush spread over the bar maid’s heaving chest. She began squeezing her breasts and rolling her nipples between her fingers. Upon seeing this, Thorin’s cock throbbed with desire. He reached his left hand up and tangled his fingers in Salwyn’s as they both massaged her breasts. The dwarf let out a shuddering breath. 

Down below, Thorin rotated his fingers and let them slide out of Salwyn in order to spread her swollen lips. He flattened his tongue and made one long slow lick from her entrance to her clit. He repeated the motion, pointing his tongue slightly and curving it up as he reached her clitoris again. After swirling his tongue around once, the dwarf tilted his head to one side in order to kiss her lips as if they were the ones on her face. He alternated between tugging them gently and sucking on them roughly. Thorin’s tongue returned to Salwyn’s clit at the same time he entered her again with his fingers. The rapid flicking of his tongue and the g-spot stimulation proved to be too much for the bar maid. She writhed around on the cellar floor. The intense sensations caused her to squeeze her thighs together around Thorin’s head. 

“It’s too much! Too much! Oh god Thorin!” she said with breathy shouts. Thorin knew that many women stopped at this crucial moment. He began moving his fingers even faster. Finally, the dwarf let out a vibrating hum over Salwyn’s clit, which caused her to scream in ecstasy. She squirmed and her whole body tensed. Her toes curled downward and her fists clenched the fur edges of Thorin’s coat. After a moment, Salwyn went limp, her chest and cheeks still flushed. 

“I feel like I’ve been turned to jam,” she said sleepily, blinking slowly a few times. 

Thorin crawled up next to her. He lay on his side, resting his head in his hand. Though he didn’t smile, Salwyn thought his face seemed softer than usual. She leaned over to kiss him but he jerked his head away.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, taken aback.

Thorin cleared his throat. “Many women don’t like to taste themselves on a man’s lips.” 

Salwyn laughed derisively. “How foolish.” 

She sat up and pushed Thorin’s shoulder to the ground. She swung one leg over him and let his cock slide horizontally through her lips without entering her. As the bar maid pinned his arms down, she stared into his penetrating blue eyes. 

“After how you just made me feel, a kiss is the least I can do for you.”

It was her turn to smile wickedly. While kissing him deeply, she stroked his collarbone and the insides of his arms with the back of her fingernails. Salwyn kissed Thorin’s top lip before moving to his earlobe. She bit it gently while twisting her finger in his braid. Her other hand passed over his tangle of dark chest hair and rested close to his nipple. Thorin did not expect Salwyn to twist it suddenly. He let out a gasp of both pleasure and pain.

She dug her nails into his chest and dragged them downward. Salwyn flipped her long hair over and let her dark waves rest on Thorin’s stomach. Her face now hidden, she moved her hand to the dwarf’s cock. She licked her right hand and grabbed him at the base, squeezing gently and then stroking upward to his head, tightening her grip. Precum leaked into the bar maid’s palm as Thorin let out a deep moan. 

Salwyn continued moving her hand up and down before switching to a rotating motion. She added her other hand and rotated them in opposite directions over his shaft. Thorin’s stomach became taut and he propped himself up on his forearms to watch the bar maid. Knowing that her curtain of hair prevented him from seeing what was coming, she very lightly licked the head of his cock. Thorin let out another groan and threw himself back down on the ground.

She began softly sucking on the tip. Salwyn swirled her tongue around, playing delicately with the highly sensitive underside. The dwarf’s mouth opened but no sound came out. Slowly, the bar maid took Thorin deeper and deeper in, lingering for a moment when the tip of his cock was halfway down her throat. Salwyn slid him back out, prompting Thorin to cry out in disappointment. He ordered her to deep-throat him once again.

She smiled deviously but said nothing. 

She began kissing his muscular inner thighs and tracing his v-lines with her fingernails. Salwyn gradually moved her hand to his balls, cradling them gently. She carefully rolled one and then the other between her index finger and thumb. As she did so, her other hand moved even lower. The bar maid pressed her middle finger into the sensitive skin just below Thorin’s balls. He exhaled sharply.

“No woman has ever ventured so low before,” Thorin croaked.

She continued to massage him with her middle finger while her other fingers reached up to hold his balls. After licking her other hand, Salwyn firmly grabbed Thorin’s shaft and began stroking it up and down. She stopped just short of the tip of his penis, which she saved for her tongue’s acrobatics. 

Thorin closed his eyes and threw his head back in ecstasy. He breathed rapidly and felt his chest emitting heat. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead. His stomach tensed and his balls tightened, withdrawing close to his body. Thorin let out a deep moan as waves of pleasure washed over him. Salwyn let his cum pool in her mouth. She flipped her hair back over her shoulders and swallowed his seed, though some of it leaked out the corner of her mouth. The bar maid stared deeply at Thorin as she wiped up the cum with her pinky finger and then sucked it clean. 

Still panting, the dwarf sat up and gazed at Salwyn. He tilted his head and studied her countenance. She was not the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. But for the first time ever, the bar maid seemed serene. The corners of her mouth turned up slightly and little crinkles of mirth extended from the corners of her eyes. Thorin embraced Salwyn and pressed the side of his face against her chest, listening to her heart thump quietly beneath her breast.


	5. Smoke Rings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin and company make their way to the cabin

Salwyn leaned down and gently kissed Thorin before standing up. There was a calm silence in the cellar passageway as the pair began gathering up their clothes and getting dressed. 

The bar maid gestured at her broken bodice and asked, “What am I supposed to do with this?”

The dwarf walked over and examined the bodice. He carefully looped the strings through the handful of eyelets that were not ripped apart. Salwyn looked down and suppressed a laugh.

“That’ll have to do, I suppose,” she sighed, pretending to be annoyed. “Anyway, I never finished telling you my plan. I got a bit…distracted.” The bar maid grinned at Thorin, who looked down smirking.

“After the hobbit steals the wooden box, you will leave your men and walk around to the front of the inn. I will have unlocked the door. Storm through it and demand to talk to Cudbert about, I don’t know, my terrible customer service.”

Thorin interrupted, “I think your service is highly satisfactory.” His eyes quickly traveled up and down her body.

“I have no doubt of that,” Salwyn replied, her lips curling in a wanton smile.

She continued, “Regardless of what you say, your presence will enrage Cudbert. He’ll run out of the kitchen and yell at you to leave. In the midst of all this commotion, your men will sneak in through the back door of the storage room and make their way to the bar. They will draw their weapons and surround Cudbert. I will emerge from the kitchen and confiscate his vargas-tipped dagger. At this point we’ll reveal that we have the wooden box. With the threat of death, he will have to open it and show us what’s inside. I really hope,” Salwyn paused, “I hope it’s something belonging to my parents. Cudbert destroyed almost everything they owned. The only thing he saved was a book of fairytales that he keeps on his bedside table. In fact, it would be wonderful if Bilbo could steal that for me too.” 

Thorin nodded his head, “Of course.” 

“Excellent,” the bar maid smiled. “When I’m done with Cudbert, I’ll stick his dagger in his chest and watch him die of vargas poisoning,” she finished cheerily. Hope rose inside her for the first time in years. 

Thorin asked, “What role will Gandalf play in all this?”

Salwyn shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know if Fremian will have gotten the message to him in time. You said earlier that the wizard will likely be joining us, but let’s just prepare for the worst and assume that he won’t.”

The dwarf raised an eyebrow but said nothing. The two turned and walked up the cellar stairs. The bar maid was suddenly nervous again.

“How long have we been down here?” she asked.

“Hopefully less than an hour,” Thorin replied, frowning. 

As they emerged from the storage room at last, the dwarf turned right and walked into the bar while Salwyn headed left into the kitchen. She grabbed a cloth sack and began stuffing it with victuals. She heard Thorin’s voice booming in the other room, informing the dwarfs that they were leaving immediately. An explosion of protests turned into an angry buzzing, but Thorin did not say another word. The bar maid imagined him staring icily at everyone. She heard their chairs scrape the floor as they all stood up and shuffled out. Salwyn hurried out of the kitchen to hand Thorin the bag of food.

“It’s just some stale bread, sausages, apples, that kind of thing,” she said breathlessly. 

“Thank you,” replied Thorin. As he took the bag his fingertips brushed against hers. She closed her eyes briefly, fighting the urge to kiss him again. 

Thorin gave Salwyn a knowing look as he passed over the threshold, closing the door behind him with a thud. As he looked back at the door, Thorin’s eye fell upon the sign of the Stagwood Inn: two arrows pointing at each other. He clenched his teeth and turned to join his men. They bombarded him with questions.

“Get the ponies,” he growled. “I will explain everything once we’ve left this wretched village.” 

The dwarf’s voice was so grave that no one objected. They silently mounted their ponies and headed down the East-West Road. After they passed out of Heorot limits, Thorin stopped and ordered everyone to circle around him. He hastily told them Salwyn’s tale and her plan to kill Cudbert. 

“Is that why you were gone so long in the cellar?” Ori asked innocently.

Fili chimed in, “I don’t think that’s the only reason why.” He winked at Kili, who laughed loudly before clapping his hand over his mouth. 

Thorin glared dangerously at them. 

“Sorry uncle,” they replied in unison.

But now Dwalin burst in, his voice deep and serious. “Do you mean to tell me we’re spending the night in a conjurer’s deserted house just because a sparrow thinks it’s safe?” The others began protesting too.

“That’s enough!” Thorin said sharply. “If I judge the cabin to be safe, then safe it is. Now, let’s get a move on so we have time to eat and rest before returning at dawn.”

At the mention of food the company stopped complaining and agreed fervently with their leader. They dug their heels into their ponies’ sides and trotted off. Balin rode up next to Bilbo and smiled at him.

“Are you nervous about your first burglaring job?” he asked kindly. 

The hobbit grimaced but didn’t answer.

“Ah don’t worry. You’ll be fine laddie,” said Balin as he patted Bilbo on the back. 

After twenty minutes, the company crossed the Last Bridge and reached the western part of the Finnsburh Woods. Thorin’s eyes squinted in the night. He discerned an opaque black shape on the edge of the forest. He jerked back on the reins. His pony stopped abruptly and all the others followed suit. 

“It can’t hurt to be cautious,” Thorin said to Dwalin, who had started grumbling again about trusting sparrows. 

“Fili, Kili – stay with the ponies. Everyone else follow me.”

Thorin’s nephews rolled their eyes and watched the others dismount. Thorin drew his sword and began creeping up to the cabin. The dwarfs spread out and approached it from all angles. As they surrounded the house, Thorin saw something move inside. He made a halting motion with his hand and the dwarfs stood still, scarcely breathing. 

“We know you’re in there!” Thorin shouted. “Come out so we can have a look at you!” 

The dwarfs’ eyes widened as the handle of the front door turned slowly. The door swung into the cabin with a loud creak. But no figure appeared in the doorway. Thorin felt his face grow hot with impatience. 

“Enough of these tricks! Show yourself!” 

The dark outline of a very tall man suddenly materialized. In a flash of fire, he lit a long pipe and began puffing on it. He blew a ring of smoke towards Thorin. It collided with the dwarf’s face and disintegrated into a thousand little wisps. After sniffing the air, Thorin put his sword back in its sheath and walked up the cabin steps. The other dwarfs looked at each other, stunned. 

“You would do well not to scare us like that, Gandalf,” Thorin scolded. 

The glow of the pipe illuminated the wizard’s wrinkled face. 

“Just making sure you’re on your guard,” replied Gandalf, suppressing a chuckle. 

Thorin motioned for the others to join him. He whistled to Fili and Kili, who trotted up with all the ponies. The dwarfs made their way inside the cabin, which by now seemed more pathetic than spooky. Gandalf pulled the shades down over the windows. Despite the lack of firewood, the wizard pointed his finger at the hearth. Flames shot out and danced merrily underneath an old black cauldron. 

“Bofur, get some stew going,” said Thorin. He handed the dwarf the cloth sack. “I’m sure you can make use of what’s in here.” Bofur grinned broadly as he looked inside. 

Thorin walked over to Gandalf, who was standing in the corner watching the disorder that had descended upon the cabin. 

“I take it Fremian found you in time.”

Suddenly, the tiny sparrow flew out from the wizard’s sleeve. He zoomed twice around Thorin’s head before perching on the dwarf’s shoulder, chirping contentedly. Gandalf laughed at Thorin’s surprised face. 

“Yes he did. And it seems he’s taken quite a shine to you,” the wizard replied.

Thorin stared sideways at Fremian. “How exactly does one learn to converse with birds?” he asked Gandalf. 

“It’s not that difficult if one stops ignoring them and begins listening to what they tell us,” replied the wizard, smiling at the sparrow. “Try it.”

Thorin felt stupid, but he closed his eyes and scrunched up his face, listening hard. The bird hopped up and down on the dwarf’s shoulder and twittered excitedly in his ear. Thorin continued to hear nonsensical peeps before a blurry word whizzed by.

“Wait!” he exclaimed. “Say that again.” 

He concentrated harder and finally heard Fremian say in a high-pitched squeak, “I’m so pleased you’ve decided to help my Lady Salwyn!” 

Thorin’s mouth fell open. Gandalf laughed and held out his index finger. The sparrow flew over and perched on it, smiling up at the wizard. 

“You see Master Dwarf,” Gandalf began, “Fremian is one of my friends. I sent him to Salwyn a few months ago so she wouldn’t feel so lonely.” 

Thorin had been preoccupied with the fact that a bird was not just talking, but smiling. The dwarf replayed Gandalf’s last words in his head and then remembered his epiphany in the cellar.

Thorin replied slowly, “I thought you might have been involved somehow. Why else would a bird know the intimate details of my past?” 

“Indeed,” said Gandalf. 

“So you orchestrated our stop in Heorot?” asked the dwarf.

“I thought it important that we not become so caught up in this quest that we forget the suffering of others,” the wizard responded firmly. “Though you have been deprived of your home, you have never been without the support of your comrades. Now think of Salwyn. Bereft of friends for ten years, she has become so isolated that her home is her prison. You two could not have led more opposite lives. And yet the similarities between you are uncanny.”

As Gandalf finished, he inhaled deeply from his pipe. The dwarf watched as the wizard blew out the smoky figure of a dragon, which wound its way around a face with a clouded eye. Thorin’s stomach lurched strangely.

“I never thought about it like that,” he said. “But tell me Gandalf, how did you come to know of Salwyn’s suffering? Why couldn’t you have helped her sooner?” 

The wizard drew himself up to his full height and glowered at the dwarf. “There are a great many things that happen every day in Middle Earth, Thorin Oakenshield. I cannot be expected to be everywhere at once!” He relaxed slightly and said in a softer voice, “But I appreciate your concern for Salwyn. She is dear to me as well.”

Gandalf sat down in a nearby chair and gestured for Thorin to do the same. 

“I first learned of Salwyn three years ago,” the wizard began. “A friend of mine named Raoladh knew that Salwyn was not treated well, but the moment he saw that she had been branded, he became extremely alarmed. Raoladh traveled all the way from here in the Finnsburh Woods deep into the Misty Mountains in order to tell me what had happened. That is no ordinary livestock brand.”

The dwarf’s eyes widened and he sat up straighter in his chair. 

“It contains information that we cannot see, signs meant only for the eyes of crows. Every time Salwyn ran away, the crows spotted her and informed Cudbert where she was. After each escape attempt Cudbert punished her more harshly. Eventually she stopped trying to flee.” 

The dwarf swore loudly. “So this friend of yours – Raoladh – why couldn’t he kill Cudbert and rescue Salwyn?” he inquired.

Gandalf paused, trying to find the appropriate words. “Raoladh has run into trouble with people in the past. Make no mistake, he wanted to help. But he thought the villagers of Heorot might retaliate and kill his family, and others like him.”

These last words startled Thorin. He stared hard at the wizard and asked slowly, “Gandalf, what exactly is Raoladh?”

“He is a conriocht.” 

“A werewolf!” exclaimed Thorin. The others turned and looked at him, uneasy about the word he had just shouted. 

“Not exactly. Raoladh is an ordinary wolf whose job it is to guard children and other innocents. He has watched over Salwyn since she was a baby. He was very upset when her parents died.” 

Thorin snarled, “He doesn’t appear to have the best guarding skills.” 

“Do not speak ill of Raoladh!” said Gandalf sharply. “Without him I could never have known about Salwyn’s abuse, nor could I have brought you all here to help her.”

Thorin nodded his head. “I suppose you’re right.”

“I usually am,” replied the wizard.

Thorin stood up and addressed the entire cabin, “We’d all better get some sleep. Tomorrow will be wearying.”


	6. A World Full of Fables

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cudbert forces Salwyn to read him a story from her book of fairytales

Back at the Stagwood Inn, the bar maid pressed her ear against the door, listening to Thorin’s deep voice ordering his men to leave. After a few minutes, she heard their ponies’ hooves clip-clopping down the East-West Road. Salwyn lingered at the door. Her hand reached out and gripped the handle. A voice inside her urged her to run after Thorin. Another voice warned her that Cudbert would find her and probably kill her this time if she did. The bar maid turned around and leaned against the door, staring up at the ceiling. Thorin’s presence had briefly filled her with hope, but this feeling departed with him. She mentally steadied herself and walked over to the staircase.

“Father!” she called out. “All the dwarfs have gone!”

“Finally rid of that dwarvish filth!” Cudbert exclaimed. “Glad to hear it.”

“I’m so tired,” Salwyn yawned loudly as she began climbing the stairs. “I think I’ll turn in for the night.” 

But she already knew what Cudbert was about to say. 

“Why don’t you be a good girl and come visit your father before you say good night? Perhaps read me a story from this old book?”

The bar maid winced as if Cudbert was about to throw her down the stairs. She replied, “I am exhausted from dealing with those dwarfs. I better just go to bed.”

“Salwyn, don’t be rude to your father,” he said menacingly. 

She had reached the top of the stairs. Cudbert’s bedroom was to her left, all the way down the hall. Salwyn crept closer to his room, carefully stepping over the notoriously creaky floorboard. 

The bar maid sighed, “I suppose one story couldn’t hurt.”

After a few more steps, she reached his room. She peeked around the doorframe, hiding most of her body behind the wall. Cudbert was lying in bed with his arms propping up his head. If Salwyn didn’t know better she might’ve thought he was asleep. His eyes opened suddenly. As he gazed at Salwyn, his mouth broke into a licentious smile. 

“That’s a good girl, reading to her poor blind father.”

Cudbert shifted over in the bed to make room for Salwyn. She picked up the book from the nightstand and sat down on the edge of the bed. She felt Cudbert’s eyes burning into her back. While her face was hidden from him, the bar maid’s eyes darted around the room. On the opposite side from the bed, Cudbert’s shirt and belt were thrown over the back of a wooden chair. Hanging from his belt was the dagger with the vargas tip. Salwyn smiled at it as she imagined what it would do the very next day. She opened the book to an especially grubby page. The bar maid cleared her throat and began reading:

“Once upon a time  
In the kingdom of Shame  
Lived a king in his prime  
No heirs to his name

To prolong his line  
He took a fair wife  
Their lives intertwined  
No discord or strife

But the wife, now a queen  
Felt envy one day  
Of the king’s new routine  
Faithless, he strayed 

How her green eyes cried  
Her heart felt the sting  
Not long ago a bride  
With a gleaming gold ring

Jealous in her rage  
She met with a witch  
Gray hair and old age  
In wisdom was rich

She whipped up a potion  
The king soon imbibed  
Increased his devotion  
The medicine prescribed 

The queen now with child  
Sighed in contentment  
Held her belly and smiled  
Felt no more resentment

The child was a boy  
The townspeople cheered  
But despite her joy  
The queen often feared

The old witch returned  
To claim her reward  
But then she was spurned  
At the tip of a sword

She withdrew to the woods  
Revenge on her mind  
The queen would make good  
On the contract she signed

The witch made a mirror  
That was gold like a crown  
When the queen drew nearer  
Inside it she’d drown

Her body won’t live  
But her soul will reflect  
Witches don’t forgive  
Such blatant disrespect

The mirror was wrapped  
And set on the table  
The queen soon was trapped  
In a world full of fables

Remember the lessons of this tale  
When putting on your bridal veil  
Take a deep breath and then exhale  
New love is pure and often frail  
Like a knight without a coat of mail  
It makes you fret and sweat and wail  
And though your child might be a male  
A husband’s loyalty is not for sale.”

Salwyn put the book down, resting it in her lap. Cudbert clapped his hands and enthusiastically said, “Well I’ll be damned if that isn’t the best story I’ve ever heard.”

The bar maid had lost count of the number of times she’d heard the forthcoming lecture. She reluctantly turned her head to look at Cudbert. 

“You see Salwyn,” he began, “you can’t get something for nothing. The queen wanted the king to be devoted to her and only her, so she sought out the witch for help. There’s nothing wrong with going to a magic-wielder for assistance with life’s troubles. Nothing at all. But,” he paused, “after the queen got what she wanted, she tried to be tricky.” He waggled his finger at Salwyn as if she was a disobedient child. “So before the queen had a clue what was happening, the witch trapped her inside a mirror forever and ever. Trust me daughter, sneaky bitches always get what’s coming to them.” 

He chuckled darkly. Salwyn didn’t respond to these last words, though she agreed that Cudbert would soon be getting what was coming to him. She stretched her arms up and yawned loudly. 

“Well Father it’s time for me to get some sleep. Morning will be here before you know it,” said the bar maid innocently. 

She tried to keep her hands from shaking with nervous excitement as she set the book back down on the bedside table. Salwyn stood up to leave. She made it to the doorway before hearing Cudbert’s rough voice call out to her.

“Wait,” he growled. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Salwyn turned around, barely breathing. Her eyes spotted the lantern on the nightstand.

“Silly me!” she said brightly, walking back. “Almost forgot to blow this out!”

As the bar maid bent down to extinguish the flame, the light illuminated the broken eyelets of her bodice. Cudbert’s functioning eye noticed this. He sat up abruptly and grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to sit down on the bed.

“What the hell is this?” he asked, gesturing at the bodice. 

Salwyn’s eyebrows flashed up and down as her mind raced to come up with the most plausible excuse. She turned toward Cudbert and pressed her hands on the bodice, covering the rips with carefully spaced fingers. 

“Oh this? One of the loops got caught on the towel hooks behind the bar counter. Completely snagged it. I’ll have to fix this up tomorrow,” she finished, trying to keep her face as neutral as possible.

Cudbert stared at Salwyn for a moment. His working eye was fixed upon her. But his clouded eye seemed to pulsate angrily in its socket. Suddenly the bar maid’s forehead felt like it was going to burst. She clapped a hand to her head and cried out in pain.

“I don’t like it when you lie to me Salwyn,” said Cudbert coolly. 

“Please!” she shrieked, falling to the floor. “Please make it stop!”

Cudbert got out of bed and walked over to the wooden chair. He picked up his belt. Through her tear-filled eyes the bar maid saw him grasp the vargas dagger. To her relief, he slid the dagger’s holster off the belt. Cudbert folded the belt in two and gripped the ends together. He swung it quickly. The belt made a whooshing sound as it cut through the air. 

“Salwyn, I asked you what happened to your clothes. Answer me truthfully,” he said, his voice filled with a deadly calm. 

She writhed around on the floor, still feeling as if her forehead was holding back a fiery eruption. Cudbert waited for her to respond. But when she said nothing, he swung the belt down. It connected with her upper arm, leaving a huge welt. Salwyn screamed, this new pain momentarily distracting her from her forehead. Cudbert paused before whacking the bar maid with his belt again, this time hitting her lower back. But she still did not answer. He took a deep breath and brought the belt down as hard as he could. The folded end of the belt connected with the side of Salwyn’s face. A purplish mark immediately appeared on her cheek. Her lower lip split open and began dribbling blood. 

“Fine, I’ll tell you!” she choked, spitting out blood on the wooden floor.

Cudbert had begun to swing the belt again but he stopped midway. His clouded eye stopped vibrating and Salwyn’s forehead returned to normal. 

“What tore your bodice?” he asked, nostrils flared. 

The bar maid gasped for air, using the extra time to figure out what she was about to say. 

She began slowly, making up the words as she went. “I was the one who tore it.”

Cudbert scoffed in disbelief. “Why would you do a stupid thing like that?” he asked, brow furrowed. 

Salwyn continued, “I was trying to entice one of the dwarfs to sleep with me. I wanted to make some extra money so I could buy a new dress. This one is tattered and old.”

Cudbert was horrified. Veins popped out of his temples. “How could you even think of doing more with a dwarf beyond serving him drinks?” He unexpectedly hit Salwyn with his belt again, this time striking the middle of her stomach. She yelped and convulsed on the floor. “You filthy disgusting dwarf whore! Get out of my sight!” he bellowed.

Salwyn struggled to her feet and stumbled out of the room. She headed to the staircase and barely caught herself from falling down the stairs. She staggered into the kitchen, fumbling for a rag to sop up her bloody lip. It stung as she dabbed at it. 

The bar maid began hyperventilating and let out quiet, shuddering sobs. “Why couldn’t we have done it tonight? Why did you let them leave, Salwyn?” she admonished herself. She stared out the kitchen window, but her reflection was the only thing that looked back at her. “Please come back Thorin. Please. I need you right now.” 

Salwyn collapsed on the kitchen floor, unaware of the large black figure that was lurking outside the window.


	7. An Unexpected Visitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin learns that Cudbert has abused Salwyn again

The black figure crept away from the window and snuck down the street on the backside of the Stagwood Inn. It cut through an alleyway next to the Heorot butcher’s shop. Upon reaching the East-West Road, it broke into a run and continued at a breakneck pace until it crossed the Last Bridge. The figure stealthily approached Cudbert’s cabin, distracted momentarily by the smell of the ponies. It pushed the door open and stood in the doorway, its outline illuminated by the bright moonlight.

Several of the dwarfs screamed with fright. The hobbit fainted. Thorin stood up so suddenly he knocked his chair over. He began to speak but was cut short by Gandalf, who roared at the company to be quiet. The wizard walked over to the stranger and patted him on the back. Fremian rushed out of Gandalf’s sleeve and flew in circles around the wizard’s head, chirping gleefully about the stranger’s arrival.

“My dear Raoladh, please come in,” said Gandalf graciously.

The colossal black wolf slowly entered the cabin, surveying everyone inside. He sat next to the hearth and looked expectantly at Gandalf. The wizard hurried over and sat down on the ground, crossing his legs. Fremian alighted on Raoladh’s head, whispering something to him. Thorin was still standing, warily observing the wolf. Gandalf turned around, beckoning the dwarf to come over.

“Do sit down with us Thorin. It’s only polite.”

“As you wish,” replied the dwarf as he awkwardly sat down, scraping his sword on the floor.

Raoladh began to say something but was interrupted by Ori, who was wringing his hands together.

“Pardon me, but should we help him?” he asked, nodding at Bilbo with his head. 

Thorin rolled his eyes and remarked, “How fortunate we are to have the only fainting burglar in all of Middle Earth.” 

Fili and Kili snorted loudly. Thorin caught his nephews’ eyes and worked furiously to suppress a smile. 

“Dori, Nori – move Bilbo from the middle of the floor. Prop him up in the corner. Ori, since you’re so worried about our burglar, why don’t you look after him?” 

Concerned, Fremian flew over to Bilbo and hovered in front of his face. Thorin frowned as he watched three dwarfs and a sparrow fussing over the hobbit. 

Raoladh spoke in a deep and intimidating voice, “I just ran here all the way from Heorot to tell you something important. But if you are going to waste my time talking about a Halfling, then I might as well leave.” 

Gandalf replied apologetically, “We shall give you our complete attention. Please, tell us what’s happened.”

The wolf looked intently at Thorin and said, “Cudbert has just beaten Salwyn with his belt while she lay defenseless on the floor. The belt hit the side of her face and split her lip open. Right now she’s in the kitchen trying to stop the bleeding.”

The dwarf almost stopped breathing. All he could hear was his heartbeat thumping in his ears. He gritted his teeth and balled his hands into fists. Images flashed through his mind of ripping Cudbert’s arms off his body. 

Raoladh fixed Thorin with a piercing stare. The wolf growled, “Cudbert only decided to flog Salwyn because her bodice was ripped and she wouldn’t tell him why. Would you happen to know anything about that Thorin?”

The dwarf’s eyes grew wide with horror. He could neither inhale nor exhale. Everyone in the cabin gawped at him. Gandalf bent his head down, shaking it slightly. 

“Couldn’t keep your hands off her,” replied Raoladh, looking at Thorin with disgust. “You lost control of yourself. Just like Cudbert, except worse.”

In one swift motion the dwarf had stood up and drawn his sword. Raoladh raised his hackles and bared his yellow fangs.

Thorin whispered dangerously, “Don’t you ever compare me to that foul, soul-sucking abomination. Salwyn asked for my help killing Cudbert.” He paused, sneering. “When have you ever helped her?”

The wolf pounced on Thorin, knocking his sword out of his hand and pinning him to the ground. Saliva dripped off his fangs and landed on the dwarf’s cheek.

Raoladh growled, “For twenty-two years I have prevented all sorts of unimaginable evils from befalling Salwyn. I have only ever had her best interests at heart. But you decided to fuck that vulnerable girl not long after meeting her. Not even Cudbert has taken advantage of Salwyn in this way.”

Thorin had been straining for his sword, but upon hearing these last words he fell limp. His stomach twisted with shame and remorse. He looked off to the side, avoiding the wolf’s eye. Raoladh snarled once more and jumped off Thorin, who continued to lie motionless on the floor. The dwarf was trying to recall everything that happened in the cellar passageway. He thought about how Salwyn had aggravated him. Thorin only allowed her to dominate him for a short time before slamming her against the stone wall. The dwarf cringed as he remembered grasping Salwyn’s throat and forgetting about her bruise. Thorin castigated himself for being so rough with her battered body. He felt a lump rise in his throat and immediately closed his eyes.

Gandalf finally broke the tension in the cabin. “We must return at once. Leave the supplies and ponies or else all of Heorot will hear us thundering into town.”

There was a pause before the dwarfs began scrambling outside. Bilbo had just regained consciousness. He blearily asked what he had missed. Balin replied quietly that he’d explain later. 

The wizard strode over to Thorin and extended his hand. The dwarf clasped it and Gandalf pulled him up. Thorin tried to speak but was interrupted. 

“Never mind all that now. Time is of the essence. Cudbert may decide that one beating was not enough for the night. Fremian!” The sparrow zoomed over. “Get a message to Salwyn. Let her know not to lose hope. We will be arriving soon.”

The bird nodded importantly and flew out the open door of the cabin. Gandalf walked over to Raoladh, bent down, and whispered something in the wolf’s ear. Raoladh turned and glared at Thorin before running out of the cabin into the night. The wizard clapped a hand on the dwarf’s shoulder, pulling him out of a daze. 

“Do not despair, Thorin Oakenshield. You are a very different man from Cudbert. He has become so attached to Salwyn that he abuses her after merely thinking about sharing her with anyone else. You seek the opposite. You have promised to help free her from her prison. But I do wish you had taken the time to consider her past experiences before you, well,” the wizard paused awkwardly. “Before you got to know her.”

Thorin bent down to pick up his sword and felt rage growing inside him again. But it wasn’t directed toward Gandalf, or Raoladh, or even Cudbert. The dwarf was furious with himself. He roughly shoved his sword into its sheath and stomped outside. 

“Listen up!” he shouted at the company, who instantly fell silent. Thorin spoke loudly, “There is a new plan. When we arrive at Heorot, half of you will go with Gandalf. Take the shortcut by the butcher’s shop and sneak into the Stagwood through the storage room door. The rest of you and Bilbo will stay with me. We’ll continue on the East-West Road and enter the inn through the front door. All of us will surround Cudbert as he comes out to investigate the commotion. The hobbit will sneak upstairs, steal the wooden box, and give it to Salwyn. She will decide how we proceed from there. Now let’s move!”

They sprinted back to Heorot, adhering to Thorin’s plan and splitting at the butcher’s alleyway. Gandalf’s group snuck up to the back of the Stagwood. The wizard silently turned the door handle of the storage room and poked his head in. Seeing that it was empty, he motioned for everyone else to follow him. 

At the same time, Thorin’s group reached the front door of the inn. The dwarf pressed his ear against the door, straining to hear if anyone was inside. Satisfied, he gripped the handle and turned it slowly. As Thorin pushed the door open, his mouth fell open in shock. 

Two figures were standing in the middle of the room. Cudbert stood behind the bar maid. One arm crossed her chest and clutched her close to him. His other arm shook as he held the vargas-tip dagger inches from her throat. Salwyn had not looked up to see who had walked in. Instead, she was eyeing the dagger fearfully and trying to stop her body from quivering. Gandalf’s group walked into the bar from the back, stopping abruptly once they saw Cudbert wielding the dagger.

“If you could all drop your weapons,” instructed Cudbert, breaking the silence. “I’m sure Salwyn here would appreciate it.”

The inn was filled with clanging as the dwarfs reluctantly obeyed. Gandalf moved closer to the stairway, obscuring his staff from Cudbert’s line of sight. 

Salwyn finally tore her eyes away from the dagger and looked over at Thorin. He still hadn’t put down his sword. Cudbert squeezed the bar maid even closer and repeated his order. Thorin dropped his sword and stared at Salwyn, surveying her bloody lip and bruised, tear-stained cheeks. 

“That’s better,” said Cudbert. “Now, I understand that you’ve all come bursting in here to kill me and rescue Salwyn. I’m afraid that won’t be happening.”

Thorin felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. He boldly asked, “Who told you we were coming?”

Cudbert smiled unpleasantly and answered, “I intercepted the message from a friend of yours.” He tossed something small and round into the middle of the room. Everyone stared it for a moment before realizing with a jolt what it was. 

Gandalf cried out, “No! Fremian!” 

As Cudbert turned to identify the source of the voice, the wizard grasped his staff and pointed it toward Cudbert. A ghostly hand emerged from the staff, gripped his throat, and pinned him against the wall. In the process, Cudbert let go of Salwyn and dropped the dagger. She picked it up and brandished it at him. He was too busy choking and spluttering to notice this. 

Gandalf crouched down over the tiny sparrow. He gently scooped up the mangled body and began whispering spells. But no amount of magic could ever bring Fremian back to life. The wizard stood up slowly and walked out the front door, unaware that everyone was observing him breathlessly. He said a few more words and the sparrow’s body suddenly turned to gold dust in his palm. Gandalf blew the dust out of his hand. A gust of wind caught it and sent gold flecks spiraling into the night. 

“Goodbye my friend,” croaked the wizard. Tears leaked out of his eyes and tumbled down his face, splashing his gray robes.

Gandalf took a deep breath and walked back inside the inn. In his absence, no one had said anything. No one had moved. They watched him bend down, pick up his staff, and walk over to Cudbert. The wizard drew the invisible hand back into the staff. Cudbert collapsed on the ground. He coughed and rubbed his throat. 

Gandalf turned to Salwyn and remarked calmly, “Before you kill this treacherous worm, I want to know why he has abused you for so long.”

Thorin was growing impatient. He angrily interjected, “Salwyn has waited long enough for this moment. I say she kills him now.”

Both the wizard and the dwarf stared at the bar maid, who was gazing down at Cudbert. Still holding the dagger close to his throat, she took a step away from him and addressed the entire room.

“For a decade the man who now cowers on the floor has imprisoned me in this inn. Every time I tried to run away he punished me. Sometimes he threw me down the stairs. Other times, like tonight, he whipped me with his belt. He even branded me so his crows could find me. But not once in ten years did he ever explain why he was torturing me. So before I kill him, I will hear his story, from its pathetic beginning to its pathetic end.” 

The bar maid turned to Cudbert and spat on his face. He looked back at her with loathing in his eyes but he said nothing. 

Gandalf pointed his staff at Cudbert and said to Salwyn, “I think I may be of some assistance to you.”

Many of the dwarfs gasped as the wizard’s staff emitted a faint green light. It washed over Cudbert, entered his ears, and seeped into his head. His functioning eye glowed green and stared blankly. Gandalf bent down and waved his hand in front of Cudbert’s face. He did not blink. 

The wizard asked quietly, “What is your name?”

Though Cudbert’s mouth did not move, an eerie voice echoed around the room, “My name is Cudbert.”

The dwarfs picked up their weapons and looked around rapidly. Gandalf informed everyone that Cudbert was in a deep trance and would not be able to harm any of them. Thorin nonetheless tightened his grip on his sword handle. The wizard turned to Salwyn.

“He will have to respond to any questions you ask him my dear. When you’re ready…”

The bar maid set the dagger on a table and sat down. She folded her hands and rested her elbows on her knees, thinking hard. She finally spoke.

“Cudbert, tell me about your family.” 

Salwyn paused expectantly, listening for his response.


	8. The Wild Rover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cudbert recounts his strange life story

There was a tangible silence in the room as everyone waited to hear Cudbert’s tale. His mind began speaking and his emotionless voice filled the inn.

“My mother died giving birth to me, so I was raised by my father, who was a woodsman. We lived in a small cabin on the edge of the Finnsburh Woods. One day, when I was about seventeen years old, we came across a patch of sweet wembleberries. My father ate a couple and was instantly paralyzed. He had actually discovered the poisonous vargas berry, which looks just like the dark purple wembleberry. I searched the area, trying to gather plants that could counteract the vargas poison. Nothing worked, but my father did not die. After a month I knew he would never return to normal. Out of mercy, I gathered some more vargas berries, boiled them, and fed the distilled poison to my father. He died instantly.”

As Cudbert finished, Salwyn felt many pairs of eyes upon her back. She turned around. Thirteen dwarfs, a hobbit, and a wizard were all staring intently at her, waiting for her next move. 

Thorin broke the silence. “Salwyn, you’ve just heard that Cudbert poisoned his own father. No one will be upset if you take care of him once and for all, right now.”

“My ears work properly Thorin,” snapped the bar maid. “But seeing as how I was the one who wanted to understand Cudbert better,” her voice rose, “I will be the one who decides when to kill him!”

The dwarf clenched his teeth, once more reminded of Salwyn’s talent for getting under his skin. She exhaled sharply, annoyed at how crowded the room suddenly felt. She turned back to face Cudbert.

“What happened next?” 

“I inherited the Finnsburh cabin and continued my father’s job as a woodsman. I provided the raw materials for Heorot craftsmen.”

When Cudbert’s voice stopped echoing, the confused bar maid looked over at Gandalf. The wizard told her that she might have to ask more specific questions.

Salwyn thought for a moment and rephrased her inquiry. “After your father died, did you try to start your own family?”

“Yes I did. One day I stopped in the Stagwood Inn for a pint of ale. I immediately fell in love with the bar maid, whose name was Eldryth.”

Salwyn gasped, but Cudbert’s voice droned on, unaware that anyone was listening to it. 

“Eldryth’s father got mad at her for talking with me when she should have been working. But I needed to spend time with her. I ended up visiting the Stagwood every day for three months. Sometimes I didn’t get to see her. But she often snuck out of the inn and visited me at my cabin. When Eldryth couldn’t speak with me in person, she wrote me letters. She told me how much she loved me. Finally I worked up the courage to meet with Eldryth’s father and ask for his daughter’s hand in marriage. But he told me that Eldryth had already been promised to Osric, the eldest son of Heorot’s leading merchant family.”

Salwyn, who was engrossed in the story, jumped slightly at hearing her father’s name. She interrupted the dull voice and asked, “Did you fight for her? For Eldryth?” 

“I was completely devastated. I returned to my cabin, but Eldryth followed me there to comfort me. It seemed that her parents had kept the arrangements of her marriage secret. She never would have declared her love for me if she had known about Osric. I begged her to elope. We could have run away to Rohan, where a distant cousin of mine lived. Eldryth hesitated and then refused. She couldn’t bear to be apart from her family. She ran out of the cabin crying. I followed her and grabbed her wrist. Eldryth shouted for me to let go. But I held her tighter, pleading for her not to marry Osric. As she yanked her arm away she fell to the ground and nearly hit her head on a rock. I apologized and tried to make sure she wasn’t hurt. But she got to her feet and ran across the Last Bridge back to Heorot.”

Cudbert abruptly stopped talking and the room was once more filled with a peculiar stillness. Salwyn was holding her head in her hands, staring at the wooden floor. 

She looked up again and asked, “After my mum, that is, after Eldryth rejected you, did you continue to work as a woodsman?” 

“No. I decided to leave the area so I didn’t have to see Eldryth with Osric. I didn’t care where I went, as long as it wasn’t Heorot.”

Salwyn did not expect this. She prompted, “Tell me where you went.”

“I headed east to Rivendell, but I didn’t much care for the elves. They did not approve of my depression tarnishing their city.”

The monotonous voice was interrupted by Thorin, who had snorted derisively.

Cudbert continued, “I trekked through the Misty Mountains and followed the Great River south to Rohan. I negotiated for a horse and traveled across the vast empty spaces of the Brown Lands. After months I finally ended up in Dorwinion, where the River Running empties into the Sea of Rhûn. Dorwinion was a peaceful place, so I decided to stop my journey there.”

“Did you continue your work as a woodsman in Dorwinion?” asked the bar maid, her eyes wide with curiosity.

“No, there aren’t many forests around Dorwinion. The people mainly produce wine, so I found a job tending the vineyards. I was hired by a trusting man named Alatar.”

Gandalf suddenly jerked his head up, trying to recall where he had heard that name before.

“What was Alatar like?” Salwyn inquired after briefly making eye contact with Gandalf. 

“He was a mild man, easy to work for. I often made mistakes out in the vineyards but Alatar was lenient. I didn’t have many friends in Dorwinion, so he sometimes invited me over for dinner. He regaled me with stories of earlier ages in Middle Earth’s history. After about a year of working for Alatar, I began to notice how vivid his stories were. One night, after too many glasses of wine, I asked him how he knew such details of the past. He told me that he was actually Alatar the Blue. He and his fellow wizard Pallando had been charged with protecting Middle Earth from Sauron.”

Gandalf looked at Bilbo and whispered, “Those are the names I had forgotten earlier.” The hobbit’s eyes widened but he didn’t reply. He was distracted with thoughts of his books and his cozy armchair.

Cudbert’s voice continued echoing, “I was stunned to be in the presence of a wizard. I asked Alatar why he lived in Dorwinion doing something as mundane as growing grapes. He replied that he had completed his duties and wanted to live a quiet life. But he settled close enough to Mordor to keep an eye on things.”

As Cudbert was describing the wizard, Salwyn was having an epiphany. She quickly asked, “Did Alatar the Blue ever teach you magic?”

Thorin’s eyes narrowed. Several of the dwarfs shifted uncomfortably, increasingly aware of how dangerous Cudbert was. Gandalf shook his head, hoping to hear a different answer than what he expected. 

“Yes he did, but reluctantly. For a whole year I begged him to teach me a few simple spells. I was so insistent that Alatar finally capitulated. He primarily taught me how to bring illumination to shadowy places. Alatar said that magic should always be helpful. The main person I thought of helping was Eldryth. She was trapped in a marriage with someone she didn’t love. But Alatar admonished me. He said that only dark wizards altered others’ capacity for love. I grew angry with him for trying to stop me. Late one night, I snuck into his library and began searching for a spell that could bring back lost love. But the magic required me to sacrifice my eye. As I finished cutting it out, Alatar burst into the room. He was livid. He banished me from Dorwinion for my disobedience. But before I left, the wizard crafted a new eye for me. He made it clouded and white so for the rest of my life others would know to fear me.”

Gandalf looked pensive. He rested his hands against his mouth with the tips of his fingers pointing upward. Salwyn had been so entranced in the story that she scarcely noticed that Cudbert had stopped talking. She jerked back to the present.

“Where did you go after Alatar banished you?”

“I continued wandering through Middle Earth. But it was impossible to stay anywhere for too long. My eye did exactly what Alatar intended. No one showed me any kindness. I was seldom allowed to spend the night in villages, so I often slept outdoors on the cold, hard ground. After this constant rejection, I decided to return home. At least I’d be able to sleep in a warm bed again. Seven years had passed since I left my cabin in the Finnsburh Woods. I fixed it up and began working as a woodsman again.”

The bar maid was counting on her fingers. She realized that Cudbert had barely returned to his cabin when Osric began taking her on day trips into the woods. 

“Are you responsible for starting the myth of the white hart?”

“Yes,” replied Cudbert. “But it’s not a myth. I enchanted one particular stag so that when the light hits him, he appears white. I hoped that the myth would draw the villagers of Heorot into the woods. Perhaps they’d stop and talk to me, or ask for help finding the hart. But it didn’t work. People continued avoiding me.”

Salwyn remembered passing by the cabin with her father and seeing Cudbert peering out at them through the window. Osric had said that the woodsman was a hermit. But with a jolt the bar maid realized that Cudbert was actually desperate for human contact. 

“How did you deal with such terrible loneliness?”

“I was used to rejection from strangers throughout Middle Earth, but I did not expect to be spurned by the people I grew up with. I plotted my revenge. Alatar had taught me how to play with light, which also meant that I could manipulate darkness. I covered Heorot in a sinister mist. The entire village alarmed passersby so much that the people of Heorot were isolated from the world, just like me. They became angry and selfish and cold. No one wanted to trade anymore. All the merchants, including Osric, went bankrupt.”

Salwyn scowled. “Is that why Osric had to live at the Stagwood? He was penniless because of you?”

“Yes,” responded the unfeeling voice. 

“But despite being impoverished, Eldryth stayed with Osric. So your plan didn’t work after all,” she finished triumphantly. 

“That wasn’t my only plan. Osric was deeply invested in finding the white hart. He believed it would bring him good luck. So early one morning, I lured him out into Finnsburh with thoughts of the stag. He followed a familiar trail but I had spread a thick fog over the area. Osric slipped and fell down a steep incline. I ran over to him, but his neck was broken. He had died instantly.”

Salwyn’s eyes widened and she shook her head in disbelief. Many years ago, the frightening man with the clouded eye had grasped her throat and threatened her. But in that moment, he spoke the truth about how her father died. 

“But what happened to Eldryth? Why did you kill her?”

“I did not kill Eldryth. I loved her very much. When she ran down the East-West Road and saw me carrying Osric’s body, she was inconsolable. Her daughter Salwyn passed out from shock. Eldryth carried her daughter back to the Stagwood and put her in bed. But once Eldryth came back downstairs, the sight of Osric’s lifeless body was too much for her to handle. She was so distressed that she became hysterical. She sat down on the ground and rocked back and forth. Eldryth began banging her head against the wall and screaming Osric’s name. I could see the fever taking over her. It wasn’t an actual fever, but the white-hot passion brought on by grief. I was well acquainted with such feelings. I helped Eldryth upstairs and tried to calm her down with a remedy that could draw poisonous emotions out of her. But the potion can only work if the recipient allows it to. Deep down, Eldryth did not want to be cured. She began shouting nonsense words at me. The only thing I could discern was that she wanted me to look after her daughter Salwyn. I promised Eldryth that I would. Somewhere inside her fever-addled mind she understood this and stopped clinging to life.”

During this monologue, Salwyn had clasped her hands over her mouth to stifle her sobs. But she did not shed tears of sorrow, or rage, or even shock. She cried because she was suddenly more confused than she’d ever been in her whole life. For ten years she had nursed a grudge against Cudbert. She channeled all her mental energy towards plotting revenge against the man who regularly abused her. But in a strange twist, Cudbert’s life story had knocked Salwyn to the ground more forcefully than he ever could.

As the bar maid stared at Cudbert, the faintest trace of pity flashed across her eyes.


	9. The Lonely Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Salwyn learns what Cudbert really thinks of her

Salwyn turned to Gandalf and spoke with urgency in her voice. “Release him from this spell! I need him to know who I am when I ask my last question.”

Thorin adjusted his grip on his sword and walked over to Salwyn, standing behind her. The other dwarfs followed his cue and readied their weapons. 

The wizard got to his feet. He pointed his staff at Cudbert and whispered words that no one else could understand. This time, a red light seeped out of the staff and hovered over Cudbert. When it met the green light, they canceled each other out and disappeared. 

Cudbert blinked rapidly. His eyes came into focus and noticed sixteen faces peering down at him. Startled, he tried to stand up. But Salwyn swiftly grabbed the vargas dagger off the table and pointed it at Cudbert. He froze and then slid back down the wall. 

“Are you aware of everything you just told us?” the bar maid asked. 

Cudbert hesitated. He was looking around the room, still trying to find a means of escape. 

“I don’t remember telling you anything!” he snarled. 

Salwyn looked over at Gandalf, who nodded that Cudbert was telling the truth. 

She turned back to Cudbert and said, “We put a spell on you and subjected you to an inquisition. You enlightened us about your father’s death, my mother’s rejection of you, your travels to Dorwinion and banishment by Alatar, the spell over Heorot, and finally,” Salwyn paused, “you told me everything that happened the day my parents died.” 

Cudbert was incensed. “How dare you extract knowledge from me against my volition! Listening to my memories as if they were a bedtime story!”

Salwyn shouted back, “But don’t you think I needed to know this information? In ten years you never bothered to mention that you had been in love with my mother.”

“Had been?” shrieked Cudbert. “You think there has been a day since Eldryth died that I have not grieved for her? She is the only person who has ever brought meaning to my life. Even though she married that gullible moron, she loved me until the very end.”

“Bullshit,” replied Salwyn, sneering at him. 

Cudbert laughed hollowly. “You can act tough in front of this dwarvish trash, but deep down you know I’m telling the truth.” 

Several of the dwarfs growled. Kili pulled back the string on his bow and Fili swung his sword menacingly. 

Thorin extended his sword toward Cudbert and warned, “It is not wise to offer insult to those who would gladly stick their swords through you.” 

Cudbert remarked coolly, “Your kind have already offered me insult.” 

Thorin furrowed his brow and looked at Balin, who shrugged his shoulders. 

Cudbert’s voice shook with fury. “Years ago I tried to find work in the Blue Mountains. I didn’t mind doing backbreaking labor as long as I had shelter. But your people took one look at me and expelled me from Ered Luin. No help came from the dwarves that day, nor any day since.” He glowered at the group before staring unblinkingly at Thorin. “And now you’ve stormed into my home and threatened to kill me, all because this whore couldn’t keep her legs shut.”

Both Thorin and Salwyn were seized with rage. They thrust their weapons toward Cudbert. The tip of Thorin’s sword hovered over Cudbert’s chest while Salwyn held the dagger an inch from his throat. 

Salwyn put her hand on Thorin’s and gently pushed his sword away. “Please. Let me do the honors.” 

He bowed his head and replied, “With pleasure.” 

The bar maid turned back to Cudbert. “Before I kill you, I will ask you one last question. The only question that has ever mattered.” Cudbert tried to look away but Salwyn followed his gaze.  
Barbs flew out of her eyes and pinned him to the wall. “Why did you abuse me?”

He tried to inhale deeply but ended up rasping instead. After coughing, he replied, “I promised Eldryth I’d watch over you and I have kept my promise. You were never kidnapped by strangers or raped by drifters. Every time you ran away into the woods I found you before beasts could prey on you. But if I hadn’t punished you, your disobedience would’ve resulted in your death. If anything bad had happened to you, it would have dishonored Eldryth’s memory.”

Salwyn’s body began shaking with fury. Her face turned red and veins popped out of her neck. 

She screamed at Cudbert, “YOU were the bad thing that happened to me! YOU have broken your promise to my mother and YOU dishonored her memory!” 

Cudbert retorted calmly, “I will love Eldryth until my last breath. But you are still Osric’s daughter – a living reminder of the man who stole the life I could have had. Your mere existence repulses me.”

Salwyn’s hand swiftly plunged the dagger into Cudbert’s throat. She drove it so hard through him that its tip became wedged in the wall. Blood gushed out of the wound and seeped into his clothes. The bar maid waited for foam to ooze out of Cudbert’s mouth but it never did. Disappointed, she concluded that the dagger had never been dipped in vargas poison. 

As Salwyn surveyed Cudbert’s body, the realization of what she had just done finally hit her. The blood drained from her face and her pale skin turned slightly green. She stood up suddenly and stumbled backwards. Thorin caught her and set her down in a chair. He tried to speak to her but she barely saw his mouth moving. Everyone’s faces swirled and distorted before Salwyn lost consciousness. 

Gandalf rushed over. He felt the bar maid’s forehead with the back of his hand. 

“She’s burning up. Get some cold water!”

Kili rushed out of the kitchen holding a large bowl of water. He tossed its contents over Salwyn, who sat bolt upright and took a huge gasp of air. Everyone in the room gaped at him as he slowly realized that this was not what the wizard had in mind. 

“Fool of a Durin,” muttered Gandalf, who had turned back to Salwyn. “Feeling better?” he asked kindly. 

She paused and replied, “Not really. I didn’t believe I was actually capable of doing that.” She looked over at Cudbert and cringed, tears welling in her eyes again. “I’m just as monstrous as he was.” 

The wizard reached out and held the bar maid’s hands. “Salwyn, you are a very different person from Cudbert. Though our circumstances can narrow the choices that we make, we still control those choices. Cudbert constantly experienced the ache of rejection. But in clinging to lost love, he laid the groundwork for his own destruction. Deep attachment to something will inevitably cause suffering. It is up to us to decide whether that pain is worth the potential benefits.” 

As Gandalf finished, he turned around and gave Thorin a knowing look. The dwarf hardened his gaze. 

A squeaky voice in the corner broke the silence. “Excuse me Salwyn,” the hobbit began tentatively. “I have the wooden box you wanted.” 

The bar maid smiled through her tears and replied, “Oh thank you Master Bilbo. I had almost forgotten about this.”

He handed it to her and she slowly opened the lid. Salwyn gasped. She reached in and picked up something small and delicate. As she held it between her thumb and index finger, it glinted in the pink sunlight that had begun to filter through the windows of the Stagwood Inn. Salwyn twirled the gleaming gold ring in her fingers. 

“There are markings on the inside! But I can’t quite make them out,” she said, squinting at the ring.

Gandalf was scarcely breathing. He eyed the ring warily.

“Oh wait, I can read it now,” declared Salwyn, tilting the ring away from her. “The engraving says, ‘For Cudbert, whose moonlight brightens my darkest nights. Love, Eldryth.’”

The wizard let out a sigh of relief. 

The bar maid’s mouth hung open. She felt sure that she had heard her mother’s voice talking in her ear. Salwyn turned to look at Cudbert, who was still attached to the inn wall. After staring at him for a moment, she walked over and crouched in front of his body. She grasped the handle of the dagger and pulled it out of the wall and through Cudbert’s throat. Coagulated black-red blood burbled down his chest. His body slumped to the side but Salwyn caught him and propped him upright. 

“I believe this belongs to you,” she said quietly, sliding the ring onto Cudbert’s cold finger. The faintest whisper left her lips, “I’m sorry Cudbert. I’m sorry for everything.”

Salwyn turned and addressed the room loudly. “We are going to bury him in the woods, next to his cabin. Find some sheets and wrap him up.”

No one moved. After a pause, Thorin asked in a deep voice, “You want us to bury him? After all that he has said and done to you?” 

Salwyn straightened up, firm in her resolve. “During his tragic life, this man experienced the crippling pain of losing something he loved. In this respect, he is no different than you or I. Thorin Oakenshield, if you feel the tiniest amount of compassion for this human being, you will help me lay his body to rest.” 

The dwarf stood silently. He closed his eyes briefly and told his men to do as Salwyn commanded. The inn was once more filled with commotion. The bar maid headed upstairs to her bedroom. Thorin followed her.

She rushed around, grabbing clothes from her dresser and tossing them in a pile on her bed. Thorin leaned his forearm against the doorway and watched her.

“Going somewhere?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

“I am,” Salwyn replied breathlessly. 

She bent down and grabbed a bag from under her bed. She hastily shoved her clothes into it before ducking under Thorin’s arm. The bar maid ran into Cudbert’s room, picked up the book of fairytales from the bedside table, and hurried back into her bedroom. She threw the book into her bag and tightened the straps. 

As she put on her gray cloak, the dwarf walked up to her and cradled her face in his hand. He spoke gently, “Salwyn, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to join us. I couldn’t bear to put you in any more danger. You deserve a peaceful life.”

She paused and replied awkwardly, “That’s very kind of you, but I wasn’t planning on joining your company.” 

Thorin’s cheeks flushed and he looked down, embarrassed. 

Salwyn grasped his hand and said, “I’m so sorry to have given you the wrong impression. But I will not squander my days rotting away in this miserable town. Neither will I accompany you on your quest. I have already slain one dragon, and that’s quite enough to satisfy me the rest of my life. I have a different plan in mind.” 

“Any chance of telling me where you’re going?”

Salwyn grinned and shook her head. “Not a chance,” she answered, winking at Thorin.

She turned to pick up her bag but the dwarf caught her arm. He pulled her close to him and kissed her deeply. As their lips broke apart, Salwyn smiled and looked up at Thorin.

“What was that all about?” she teased.

“Just in case,” he replied seriously.

She frowned and asked, “Just in case what?”

“Never mind,” said Thorin, shaking his head. “Grab your things. They’ll have finished wrapping up Cudbert by now.” 

As he walked quickly out of the room, Salwyn stared at the space where he had just stood. She slung her bag over her shoulders and returned downstairs. The company had already gathered outside the inn. Two dwarfs struggled to hold the heavy body. Salwyn crossed the threshold of the inn, shutting the door behind her. She turned and looked back at the two-arrow sign on the door. She exhaled slowly, thankful that she would no longer be the Stagwood bar maid. 

“Alright everyone, let’s make it to the woods before Heorot notices what we’re doing.” 

The group moved more slowly than usual, sweating in the morning sun. Nearly everyone was tired and hungry. The dwarfs had to take turns carrying Cudbert’s cumbersome corpse. After forty minutes, they arrived at the cabin. The ponies whinnied happily at seeing the company again.

Salwyn chose an appropriate burial spot and refused help digging Cudbert’s grave. The dwarfs lowered the body down and covered it up with moist black earth.

“Do you want to say anything?” asked Thorin quietly.

Salwyn paused for a moment, staring hard at the churned-up ground. “I forgive you,” she said at last. 

She turned away from the grave and spoke to the group. “You all are the kindest, bravest men I’ve ever met. I have no doubt that you will successfully reclaim your home. But nonetheless, I wish you all the luck in the world. Perhaps one day I’ll see you again.” 

She smiled sadly and started to walk away, but Gandalf stopped her. 

“There is someone who wants to accompany you on your travels.”

Hope rose in Salwyn’s chest and her eyes flicked to Thorin. But he was frowning, puzzled by the wizard’s remarks.

Gandalf cleared his throat and called out, “Oh Raoladh!”

The massive wolf emerged from the cabin and walked up to Salwyn. A day ago, the sight would have caused her to scream in fear. But today, she simply glanced over at Gandalf with a confused look on her face.

The wizard replied, “This is your conriocht Raoladh. He has watched over you for many years. His guardianship duties will come to an end the moment you pass out of his jurisdiction. But his commitment to you runs deep. He will escort you as far as Gondor. Beyond that he risks punishment from his elders for neglecting his other charges.” 

Salwyn’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Well that’s unexpected.” She turned to the wolf, “But quite a welcome piece of news. Thank you Raoladh.”

He bowed his head and replied, “Anything for you Lady Salwyn. But we should depart immediately. We will follow the River Mitheithel as far as possible in the daylight.”

Salwyn nodded. She and Raoladh began walking away from the cabin. Thorin stared at her back, internally pleading for her to look at him. 

As Salwyn reached the Last Bridge, she stopped and spun around. She saw Thorin standing motionless amid the blur of bustling dwarfs. Satisfied that he could not see her tears, she waved cheerfully. Thorin clenched his teeth and put his hand in the air, though he did not wave back. Salwyn turned around again and continued on her way, unsuccessfully trying to stifle her sobs. Thorin continued to stare at her outline as it shrunk and then finally disappeared altogether.

 

* * *

 

After a couple of months, Salwyn and Raoladh arrived in Gondor. She spent a few weeks there and then traveled up to Rohan. Like Cudbert, she bought a horse and rode across the vast expanse of the Brown Lands. At last, Salwyn arrived in Dorwinion. She sought out Alatar and informed him of Cudbert’s fate. The wizard apologized profusely and asked what he could do for her. Salwyn replied that he could give her a job. In his infinite wisdom, Alatar made her the estate manager of his vineyards. 

One day, about a year after leaving Heorot, Salwyn had gone down to the docks to receive the weekly shipment of empty wine barrels sent down the River Running. She made the usual idle chitchat with the boatman. 

“Is there any news to speak of?” she asked. 

“Oh yes my lady!” replied the boatman eagerly. “The word on the river is that Smaug the Terrible has been killed. His corpse lies rotting on the remnants of Esgaroth in the middle of the Long Lake.”

Salwyn was stunned. “And what of the dwarfs of Erebor? Did they reclaim the Lonely Mountain?” she asked breathlessly. 

“I believe so,” he answered.

She shoved the inventory list into his hand and ran off.

“Hey! Where are you going? I need your signature!”

Salwyn burst into Alatar’s house and stood panting in the entryway. She began shouting, “Alatar! Alatar! I must speak with you!”

He had been standing silently behind her. She turned around and yelped in surprise before realizing who it was. 

“Alatar, Smaug has been slain! I must leave at once. I’m sure you understand.”

The wizard smiled appreciatively and bowed his head. “Breathe dear Salwyn, breathe. Of course you may go. Take my boat. Tell Baldric where to go and he will get you there swiftly.”

She tore outside and ran up to Baldric, who was napping on Alatar’s boat. 

“Baldric!” she bellowed. He woke up and lurched in fright. “We must depart for the Lonely Mountain at once.”

“Why? What’s happened?” asked Baldric, breathing hard.

“Smaug is dead and the dwarfs have retaken Erebor,” Salwyn replied happily.

“Alright, alright, keep your shirt on,” said Baldric grumpily as he stood up and began untwisting the ropes connecting the boat to the dock. “Hop in Salwyn.”

As they started up the River Running, Baldric turned to Salwyn and asked, “Why do you want to go to the Lonely Mountain anyways?”

Salwyn closed her eyes and smiled as the wind whipped her long hair. She replied, “I’m going to visit an old friend of mine.”


End file.
